Sunbeams after shadows racing,
Flinging on the sward a net-work
Of embroidered golden fret-work—
Quaintly beautifully grotesque,
As of flickering arabesque
Sculpt’d from sunbeams, light and shade,
Its ground the green enameled glade.
“If I had not Yang Kuei-fei,
What were all this lovely scene?
With her, sitting thus by me,—