Classic Poem

Down the waves of the Yang-tse-Kiang,
 In a gilded barge with saffron sails,
I wooed my Li to the brazen clang
 Of kettledrums, and the weary wails
 Of flutes, whilst under her spangled veils
She would sway her willowy waist, and sing
 Sweet songs that made me dream of the dales
Of Han-Yang, Woo-hoo and far Tchin-Ting.

Past the porcelain towers of Keou-Kang,
 And its peach blooms, loud with nightingales,
We drifted fast, as the dim gongs rang,
 Toward the horizon's purple pales.
 Hark! our hoarse pilot once more hails
The anchored junks, as they swerve and swing,
 Laden with silk and balsam bales
From Han-Yang, Woo-hoo and far Tchin-Ting.

Of nights, when the hour had come to hang
 Our paper lamps to their bamboo rails,
And afar we heard the silvery twang
 Of lutes from the tea fleet's moonlit trails,
 Then, oh my Li of the jasper nails,
As on the shore swooned the winds of spring,
 I lay at thy feet and told thee tales,
Of Han-Yang, Woo-hoo and far Tchin-Ting.

ENVOY .

 Loved Princess, ere my fantasy fails,
Farewell, and I'll make thy praises ring
 O'er the Flowery Kingdom's fields and swales,
From Han-Yang, Woo-hoo to far Tchin-Ting.