With wine and song the hours fly by
Till each in cloudland roams,
And then, content with all the world,
We wander to our homes.
Through lattice-window steals a breeze,
As on my couch I lie,
While overhead the 'Silver Stream'
Flows through a splendid sky.
And as I gaze it comes to mind—
A dozen jars at least
Of the aster-scented wine remain
To grace to-morrow's feast.
An Old House Unroofed by an Autumn Gale
BY TU FU
T'ang Dynasty
The roof of my house has been blown away
By the fiercest of Autumn winds to-day;
It was merely of grass and branches built—
Yet my only shelter save a wadded quilt.
Across the river it scurried and whirled,
In tangled tufts, by the hurricane hurled,
Ascending in gusts till caught by the trees,
Or falling in ponds and on furrowed leas.
In great delight the village urchins shout,
And say I'm old and cannot run about;
And now before my face the rogues begin
To steal things, and then run away and grin.