Page:A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems (1919).djvu/180

 THE LETTER

talked together in the Yung-shou Temple; We parted to the north of the Hsin-ch'ang dyke. Going home — I shed a few tears, Grieving about things,— not sorry for you. Long, long the road to Lan-t'ien; You said yourself you would not be able to write. Reckoning up your halts for eating and sleeping — By this time you've crossed the Shang mountains. Last night the clouds scattered away; A thousand leagues, the same moonlight scene. When dawn came, I dreamt I saw your face; It must have been that you were thinking of me. In my dream, I thought I held your hand And asked you to tell me what your thoughts were. And you said: "I miss you bitterly, But there's no one here to send to you with a letter." When I awoke, before I had time to speak, A knocking on the door sounded "Doong, doong!" They came and told me a messenger from Shang-chou Had brought a letter,— a single scroll from you! Up from my pillow I suddenly sprang out of bed, And threw on my clothes, all topsy-turvy. [ 174 ]