f, 1919.

EVENING

[_A.D. 835_]

_Water's colour at-dusk still white;
Sunsets glow in-the-dark gradually nil.
Windy lotus shakes [like] broken fan;
Wave-moon stirs [like] string [of] jewels.
Crickets chirping answer one another;
Mandarin-ducks sleep, not alone.
Little servant repeatedly announces night;
Returning steps still hesitate._

IN EARLY SPRING ALONE CLIMBING THE T`IEN-KUNG PAGODA

[_A.D. 389_]

_T`ien-kung sun warm, pagoda door open;
Alone climbing, greet Spring, drink one cup.
Without limit excursion-people afar-off wonder at me;
What cause most old most first arrived!_

While many of the pieces in "170 Chinese Poems" aimed at literary form
in English, others did no more than give the sense of the Chinese in
almost as crude a way as the two examples above. It was probably because
of this inconsistency that no reviewer treated the book as an experiment
in English unrhymed verse, though this was the aspect of it which most
interested the writer.

In the present work I have aimed more consistently at poetic form, but
have included on account of their biographical interest two or three
rather unsuccessful versions of late poems by Po Chuu-i.

For leave to reprint I am indebted to the editors of the _English
Review_, _Nation_, _New Statesman_, _Bulletin of School of Oriental
Studies_, and _Reconstruction_.

CH`U YUUAN

[_Fourth Century B.C._]

[1] THE GREAT SUMMONS

_When Ch`uu Yuuan had been exiled from the Court for nine years, he became
so despondent that he feared his soul would part from his body and he
would die. It was then that he made the poem called "The Great Summons,"
calling upon his soul not to leave him._

Green Spring receiveth
The vacant earth;
The white sun shineth;
Spring wind provoketh
To burst and burgeon
Each sprout and flower.
In those dark caves where Winter lurketh
Hide not, my Soul!
O Soul come back again! O, do not stray!

O Soul come back again and go not east or west, or north or south!
For to the East a mighty water drowneth Earth's other shore;
Tossed on its waves and heaving with its tides
The hornless Dragon of the Ocean rideth:
Clouds gather low and fogs enfold the sea
And gleaming ice drifts past.
O Soul go not to the East,
To the silent Valley of Su