A suggestion of chill pervades the little bower,
The haze of dawn sulky as though it were deep autumn.
On the painted screen, thin mist hovering over a running brook —
A scene tranquil and serene.

Fallen petals flying at ease — ethereal like dreams;
Mizzling rain in an endless stream — fine as sorrow.
The jeweled curtain hung up idly on a little hook of silver.