With splinters of emerald,
How can I sing you songs of the amber pear,
Or pour for the finger-tips of your white fingers
Mingled scents in a rose agate bowl?
From the Chinese of [J. Wing] (nineteenth century).
THE BAD ROAD
I have seen a pathway shaded by green great trees,
A road bordered by thickets light with flowers.
My eyes have entered in under the green shadow,
And made a cool journey far along the road.