Where the grounds are wet and low,
There the trees of goat-peach grow.
Soft and fragrant are their flowers,
Glossy from the vernal showers.
Joy it were to me, O tree,
Ties of home to want like thee.
Where the grounds are wet and low,
There the trees of goat-peach grow,
What delicious fruits they bear,
Glossy, soft, of beauty rare!
Joy it were to me, O tree,
Household cares to want like thee.
BOOK XIV
THE ODES OF TS'AOU
~Against Frivolous Pursuits~
Like splendid robes appear the wings
Of the ephemeral fly;
And such the pomp of those great men,
Which soon in death shall lie!
I grieve! Would they but come to me!
To teach them I should try.
The wings of the ephemeral fly
Are robes of colors gay;
And such the glory of those men,
Soon crumbling to decay!
I grieve! Would they but rest with me,
They'd learn a better way!
The ephemeral fly bursts from its hole,
With gauzy wings like snow;
So quick the rise, so quick the fall,
Of those great men we know!
I grieve! Would they but lodge with me,
Forth they would wiser go.
BOOK XV
THE ODES OF PIN
~The Duke of Chow Tells of His Soldiers~
To the hills of the east we went,
And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent,
Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
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