make bigger plate for child;
Child beg in street to get food for sick mother;
Sister wear ragged clothes for sake of little brother.
And none of these has bowed to Joss,
Or marched with candle,
Or washed in blood of Lamb.

Going to Market

Good morning, Mister, how do you do?
I am going to Salmon Lane, to the cheap market for dainty foods.
Won't you come with me, Mister?

I shall buy meat and fish and a loaf of bread,
And fresh fruit and potatoes;
I shall buy a cluster of flowers and a bottle of wine,
Some butter and some jam,
And biscuits, and nuts and candy.
For I give an English feast to-night to a friend with yellow curls,
And every dish will be cooked by me.

Into the pot will go sharp spices,
To flavour your English meats:
Cayenne and thyme, and sage and salt,
A sprig of parsley for garnish,
And some delicate bamboo shoots.
But the sweetest spice will not be seen,
It will leap from my heart to the pot as I stir it.
I am going to gather it on the way to the market
From my own sweet thoughts and from elegant conversation
With notable misters.
Won't you come with me?

A Portrait

How shall I write of you, little friend,
To my father on the River of Serenity?
I will tell him of your twenty yellow curls
Tumbling in a cascade about your shoulders;
Your bright mouth and fine brow,
Lit by yet brighter eyes,
Where fireflies dance;
How in your cheeks you hold
The colours of the flower before its leaves unclose;
How the tones of your voice, sounding in my ears,
Float before my eyes like strings of lanterns;
How, when I look closely upon you,
I see my thoughts like a white river in your eyes;
How, as I walk down the street where you have trod,
The very stones are to me the smiles that you scatter as you pass.
How your look thrills my heart as a guitar thrills to the touch.

And I will tell him that you are not for me,
For you are white and I am yellow;
Unless, perchance, shame and disgrace fall upon you,
As it falls upon some girls of this quarter,
And your neighbours and friends pass by the other way.
Then, perhaps, it would be permitted to me
To render service to you.

On a Saying of Mencius

That was well said of Mencius:
The misfortunes of one are the entertainment of many.

When Prosperity attended the occasions of this person,
And his heart smiled within him,
He was