Liu Ch’e
10 lines✦
he rustling of the silk is discontinued,Dust drifts over the court-yard,There is no sound of foot-fall, and the leavesScurry into heaps and lie still,And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them: A wet leaf that clings to the threshold. Fan-piece, for her Imperial Lord O fan of white silk,clear as frost on the grass-blade,You also are laid aside.
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