I BREAK up cypress and make a book-box; The box well-made, -- and the cypress-wood tough. In it shall be kept what author's works? The inscription says PO LO-T'IEN. All my life has been spent in writing books, From when I was young till now that I am old. First and last, -- seventy whole volumes; Big and little, -- three thousand themes. Well I know in the end they'll be scattered and lost; But I cannot bear to see them thrown away, With my own hand I open and shut the locks, And put it carefully in front of the book-curtain. I am like Teng Pai-tao; But to-day there is not any Wang Ts'an. All I can do is to divide them among my daughters To be left by them to give to my grandchildren. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THESE ENDURE by MARION H. ADDINGTON EN PASSANT by EDITH COURTENAY BABBITT FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS by BION LIVING BY FAITH by PHOEBE CARY SONGS OF ROSES: 1. ROSE FANTASIA by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE IN THE SHADOWS: 25 by DAVID GRAY (1838-1861) |