![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEDZ9cHxMdRCvBHZAaO50JGJ3kfnByly_DMZgG4ZPNGbZRV2NFsxRAXYbcpL_INTZNmy9Bkrw92zSTXfdRxBXr_-CIistKn7Z9Q07cgV7LsEcEObsWZ-7zuuXJHvw9UJ_rY0QorEWipc/s400/china1.jpg)
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.
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