Travelling

If e'er our minds be ill at ease
It is in vain to cross the seas
Or when the fates do prove unkind
To leave our native land behind.
The ship becalmed at length stands still
The steed will rest beneath the hill.
But swiftly still our fortunes pace
To find us out in every place.

Of Use

Use maketh maistry, this hath been said alway:
But all is not alway: as all men do say,
In Aprill the Koocoo can sing her song by rote.
In June out of tune she can not sing a note.
At first, kooco, kooco, sing still can she do,
At last kooke, kooke, kooke: six kookes to one ko.

Madonna Mia

About Her whom I have not yet met
I wonder what she is doing
Now, at this sunset hour,
Working perhaps, or playing, worrying or laughing,
Is she making tea, or singing a song, or writing, or praying, or reading?
Is she thoughtful, as I am thoughtful?
Is she looking now out of the window
As I am looking out of the window?

Grass and Children

Grass and children
There seems no end to them.
But if there were but one blade of grass
Men would see that it is fairer than lilies,
And if we saw the first child
We should worship it as the God come on earth.

The Age of Reason

An endless line of tubs, all in an endless row
And a little child at play who rolls them to and fro.
But each contains a man — rattled about like a stone
A man of a Philosophic Age, when each man lives alone.

Cheng-tao Temple

Twisting, circling, the green path slants:
this is home for the rustic monks.
Swelling the gullies, waterfalls splash from cliffs;
piercing sky, stone teeth stand in rows.
The brazier is cold; some pine cones remain.
The trellis is silent; vine blossoms fall.
The monks remember when people fled the troops;
then, noble carriages flocked to these gates.

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