The bugle blows, setting the marchers moving,
A grumbling hubbub as the soldiers rise.
Fifes screech, a tumult of neighing horses
As they struggle to ford the Golden River.
Sunset at the edge of a great desert,
Sounds of battle within the dust and mist.
Having bound up the necks of all the famous chieftains,
They return to report to the emperor.

A peacock southeast flew,
After five leagues it faltered.

“At thirteen I could weave white silk,
At fourteen I learned to make clothes.
At fifteen I played the many-stringed lute,
At sixteen recited Odes and History .
At seventeen I became your wife
And my heart was full of constant pain and sorrow.

“You became a government clerk,
I kept chaste, my love never straying.
At cockcrow I went in to weave at the loom,
Night after night found no rest.
In three days I cut five lengths of cloth,
Mother-in-law still nagged at my sloth.

Pity me! my body is female,
My lowly state is hard to describe.
A boy faces door and gate,
Comes down on earth with a natural birthright,
His manly heart burns for the four seas,
Ten thousand leagues he yearns for windy dust.

A girl is born, there is no celebration,
She is not her family's prized jewel.
Grown up she is hidden in private rooms,
Veils her head, too shy to look on others.

Shedding tears she marries in another village,
Sudden like a cloudburst of rain.
With bowed head she calms her features,

" Build me straight, O worthy Master!
Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel,
That shall laugh at all disaster,
And with wave and whirlwind wrestle! "

The merchant's word
Delighted the Master heard;
For his heart was in his work, and the heart
Giveth grace unto every Art.

A quiet smile played round his lips,
As the eddies and dimples of the tide
Play round the bows of ships,
That steadily at anchor ride.
And with a voice that was full of glee,
He answered, " Erelong we will launch

BUILD FOR YOURSELF a strong box,
Fashion each part with care;
When it's strong as your hand can make it,
Put all your troubles there;
Hide there all thought of your failures,
And each bitter cup that you quaff;
Lock all your heartaches within it,
Then sit on the lid and laugh.

Tell no one else its contents,
Never its secrets share;
When you've dropped in your care and worry
Keep them forever there;
Hide them from sight so completely
That the world will never dream half;
Fasten the strong box securely —

Bugles!
And the Great Nation thrills and leaps to arms!
Prompt, unconstrained, immediate,
Without misgiving and without debate,
Too calm, too strong for fury or alarms,
The people blossoms armies and puts forth
The splendid summer of its noiseless might;
For the old sap of fight
Mounts up in South and North,
The thrill
That tingled in our veins at Bunker Hill
And brought to bloom July of 'Seventy-Six!
Pine and palmetto mix
With the sequoia of the giant West.

Their ready banners and the hosts of war,
Near and far,

The bugler sent a call of high romance —
Lights out! Lights out! — to the deserted square:
On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer.
God, if it's this for me next time in France
Spare me the phantom bugle as I lie
Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns,
Dead in a row with the other shattered ones,
Lying so stiff and still under the sky —
Jolly young Fusiliers, too good to die.
The music ceased, and the red sunset flare
Was blood about his head as he stood there.

Bugle calls coiling through the rocky valley
have found echoes in the eagles' cries:
an outrage is done on anguish'd men
now men die and death is no deedful glory.

Eleven days this legion forced the ruin'd fields, the
burnt homesteads and empty garths, the broken arches
of bridges: desolation moving like a shadow before them, a
rain of ashes. Endless their anxiety.

marching into a northern darkness: approaching
a narrow defile, the waters falling fearfully
the clotting menace of shadows and all the multiple

Sunrise at the southeast corner
Shines on our Ch'in clan house.
The Ch'in clan has a fair daughter,
She is called Lofu.

Lofu is good at silkworm mulberry,
She picks mulberry at the wall's south corner.
Green silk is her basket strap,
Cassia her basket and pole.

On her head a twisting-fall hairdo,
At her ears bright moon pearls.
Green silk is her lower skirt,
Purple silk is her upper shirt.

Passersby see Lofu,
Drop their load, stroke their beard.
Young men see Lofu,
Take off caps, put on headbands.

Preface

The ruler of Ngo kingdom in the state of Ch'u, Tzu-hsi, was traveling in a blue-plumed boat with a kingfisher awning. The Viet oarsman fell in love with Tzu-hsi, and sang a Viet song as he plied the oars. The ruler of Ngo was touched. Full of desire, he raised his embroidered quilt and covered the boatman. His song went like this:

Tonight, what sort of night?
I tug my boat midstream.
Today, what sort of day?
I share my boat with my lord.
Though ashamed, I am loved.
Don't think of slander or disgrace!
My heart will never fail,