GOLDWIRE AND POPPYSEED.
(A Chinese Poem.)
I make a bow; and then
I seize my brush (or pen)
And paint in hues enamel-bright
Scenes of Cathay for your delight.
Two buzzards by a stream,
So still that they might seem
Part of a carving wrought in bone
To decorate a royal throne.
Two lovers by a mill,
A picture sweeter still:
Will Chen-ki-Tong in this pursuit
Evade Pa-pa's avenging boot?
Lotus and mirror-lake
Æsthetic contact make;
No interfering dragon wags
His tail across their travelling bags.
Blue terraces of jade;
Sherbet and lemonade
Regale the overloaded guests;
They loose the buttons on their chests.
Birds'-nests and shark-fin soup:
I join the festive group;
My simple spirit merely begs
A brace of fifteenth-century eggs.
Pa-pa with heavy whip
Waits near the laden ship.
The cloud that hides the ivory moon
Is singularly opportune.
Clamour of gilded gongs
And shout of wedding songs.
I do not fail to notice that
The ophicleides are playing flat.
Peacock and palanquin,
Lacquered without, within.
This is the jasmine-scented bride
Resting her fairy toes inside.
Joss-sticks and incense sweet.
The perfume of her feet
Creates around her paradise.
I also find it rather nice.
A Chinese tale, you know,
Works upward from below.
The sense of mine is none the worse
If taken backward, verse by verse.
"Frederick ——, 14, was summoned for failing to display a white front light on a bicycle and pleaded guilty.
Policewoman —— stated the facts, and was fined 5s."—Local Paper.
Most discouraging.
"Florists by the thousand for cutting. They are also nice for borders round grass-plots, along hedges, round shrubs, etc."—Dutch Bulb Catalogue.
We should not dare to treat a British florist like this.
