But I only wish our tea to be of a superfine kind,
To have it equal the “sparrow’s tongue” and “dragon’s pellet.”
For a whole month when can I catch a single leisure day?
For at earliest dawn I go to pick and not till dusk return;
Then the deep midnight sees me still before the firing pan;
Will not labor like this my pearly complexion deface?
But if my face is thin my mind is firmly fixed,
So to fire my golden buds that they shall excel all besides;
But how know I who shall put them in the jewelled cup?
Whose taper fingers will give them to the maid to draw?