To the hills of the East we went,
    And long had we there to remain. 
  When the word of recall was sent,
    Thick and fast came the drizzling rain. 
  The heavenly gourds rise to the eye,
    With their fruit hanging under the eave. 
  In our chambers the sow-bug we spy;
    Their webs on our doors spiders weave. 
  Our paddocks seem crowded with deer,
    With the glow-worm’s light all about. 
  Such thoughts, while they filled us with fear,
    We tried, but in vain, to keep out.

  To the hills of the East we went,
    And long had we there to remain. 
  When the word of recall was sent,
    Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.

  On ant-hills screamed cranes with delight;
    In their rooms were our wives sighing sore. 
  Our homes they had swept and made tight:—­
    All at once we arrived at the door. 
  The bitter gourds hanging are seen,
    From branches of chestnut-trees high. 
  Three years of toil away we had been,
    Since such a sight greeted the eye.

  To the hills of the East we went,
    And long had we there to remain. 
  When the word of recall was sent,
    Thick and fast came the drizzling rain. 
  With its wings now here, and now there,
    Is the oriole sporting in flight. 
  Those brides to their husbands repair,
    Their steeds red and bay, flecked with white. 
  Each mother has fitted each sash;
    Their equipments are full and complete;
  But fresh unions, whatever their dash,
    Can ne’er with reunions compete.

There is a Proper Way for Doing Everything

  In hewing an axe-shaft, how must you act? 
    Another axe take, or you’ll never succeed. 
  In taking a wife, be sure ’tis a fact,
    That with no go-between you never can speed.

  In hewing an axe-shaft, hewing a shaft,
    For a copy you have the axe in your hand.

  In choosing a wife, you follow the craft,
    And forthwith on the mats the feast-vessels stand.

PART II.—­MINOR ODES TO THE KINGDOM

BOOK I

DECADE OF LUH MING

A Festal Ode

  With sounds of happiness the deer
    Browse on the celery of the meads. 
  A nobler feast is furnished here,
    With guests renowned for noble deeds. 
  The lutes are struck; the organ blows,
    Till all its tongues in movement heave. 
  Each basket loaded stands, and shows
    The precious gifts the guests receive. 
  They love me and my mind will teach,
  How duty’s highest aim to reach.

  With sounds of happiness the deer
    The southern-wood crop in the meads,
  What noble guests surround me here,
    Distinguished for their worthy deeds! 
  From them my people learn to fly
    Whate’er is mean; to chiefs they give
  A model and a pattern high;—­
    They show the life they ought to live. 
  Then fill their cups with spirits rare,
  Till each the banquet’s joy shall share.