sneers by my contemporaries.
They clap their hands, but they are free to laugh at me by the
roadside as much us e'er they list.
'The shadow of the chrysanthemums,' by the 'Old Friend of the hall reclining on the russet clouds.'
In layers upon layers their autumn splendour grows and e'er thick and
thicker.
I make off furtively, and stealthily transplant them from the three
crossways.
The distant lamp, inside the window-frame, depicts their shade both
far and near.
The hedge riddles the moon's rays, like unto a sieve, but the flowers
stop the holes.
As their reflection cold and fragrant tarries here, their soul must
too abide.
The dew-dry spot beneath the flowers is so like them that what is said
of dreams is trash.
Their precious shadows, full of subtle scent, are trodden down to
pieces here and there.
Could any one with eyes half closed from drinking, not mistake the
shadow for the flowers.
'Dreaming of chrysanthemums,' by the 'Hsiao Hsiang consort.'
What vivid dreams arise as I dose by the hedge amidst those autumn
scenes!
Whether clouds bear me company or the moon be my mate, I can't
discern.
In fairyland I soar, not that I would become a butterfly like Chang.
So long I for my old friend T'ao, the magistrate, that I again seek
him.
In a sound sleep I fell; but so soon as the wild geese cried, they
broke my rest.
The chirp of the cicadas gave me such a start that I bear them a
grudge.
My secret wrongs to whom can I go and divulge, when I wake up from
sleep?
The faded flowers and the cold mist make my feelings of anguish know
no bounds.
'Fading of the chrysanthemums,' by the 'Visitor under the banana trees.'
The dew congeals; the frost waxes in weight; and gradually dwindles
their bloom.
After the feast, with the flower show, follows the season of the
'little snow.'
The stalks retain still some redundant smell, but the flowers' golden
tinge is faint.
The stems do not bear sign of even one whole leaf; their verdure is
all past.
Naught but the chirp of crickets strikes my ear, while the moon shines
on half my bed.
Near the cold clouds, distant a thousand li, a flock of wild geese
slowly fly.
When autumn breaks again next year, I feel certain that we will meet
once more.
We part, but only for a time, so don't let us indulge in anxious
thoughts.
Each stanza they read they praised; and they heaped upon each other incessant eulogiums.
'Let me now criticise them; I'll do so with all fairness!' Li Wan smiled. 'As I glance over the page,' she said, 'I find that each of you has some distinct admirable sentiments; but in order to be impartial in my criticism to-day, I must concede the first place to: 'Singing the chrysanthemums;' the second to: 'Asking the chrysanthemums;' and the third to: 'Dreaming of chrysanthemums.' The original nature of the themes makes the verses full of originality, and their conception still more original. But we must allow to the 'Hsiao Hsiang consort' the credit of being the best; next in order following: 'Pinning chrysanthemums in the hair,' 'Facing the chrysanthemums,' 'Putting the chrysanthemums, in vases,' 'Drawing the chrysanthemums,' and 'Longing for chrysanthemums,' as second best.'
This decision filled Pao-yue with intense gratification. Clapping his hands, 'Quite right! it's most just,' he shouted.
'My verses are worth nothing!' Tai-yue remarked. 'Their fault, after all, is that they are a little too minutely subtile.'
'They are subtile but good,' Li Wan rejoined; 'for there's no artificialness or stiffness about them.'
'According to my views,' Tai-yue observed, 'the best line is:
''When cold holdeth the park and the sun's rays do slant, I long and
yearn for you, old friends.'
'The metonomy:
''I fling my book aside and turn my gaze upon a twig of autumn.'
is already admirable! She has dealt so exhaustively with 'putting chrysanthemums in a vase' that she has left nothing unsaid that could be said, and has had in consequence to turn her thought back and consider the time anterior to their being plucked and placed in vases. Her sentiments are profound!'
'What you say is certainly so,' explained Li Wan smiling; 'but that line of yours:
''Some scent I hold by the side of my mouth,....'
'beats that.'
'After all,' said T'an Ch'un, 'we must admit that there's depth of thought in those of the 'Princess of Heng Wu' with:
''...in autumn all trace of you is gone;'
'and
''...my dreams then know something of you!'
'They really make the meaning implied by the words 'long for' stand out clearly.'
'Those passages of yours:
''Cold is the short hair on his temples and moistened....'
'and
''His flaxen turban is suffused with the sweet fragrance....;''
laughingly observed Puo-ch'ai, 'likewise bring out the idea of 'pinning the chrysanthemums in the hair' so thoroughly that one couldn't get a loop hole for fault-finding.'
Hsiang-yuen then smiled.
''...who is meet with you to stay''
she said, 'and
''...burst the last in bloom.'
'are questions so straight to the point set to the chrysanthemums, that they are quite at a loss what answer to give.'
'Were what you say:
''I sit with head uncovered....'
'and
