Gathering the water-plants
From the wild luxuriance of spring,
Away in the depth of a wild valley
Anon, I see a lovely girl.
With green leaves the peach-trees are loaded,
The breeze blows gently along the stream,
Willows shade the winding path,
Darting orioles collect in groups,
Eagerly I press forward
As the reality grows upon me...
'Tis the eternal theme,
Which, though old, is ever new.