Page:A history of Chinese literature - Giles.djvu/192

180 It is like a gentle breeze in spring, Softly bellying the flowing robe; It is like the note of the bamboo flute, Whose sweetness we would fain make our own. Meeting by chance, it seems easy of access, Seeking, we find it hard to secure. Ever shifting in semblance, It shifts from the grasp and is gone."

iv. CONCENTRATION.

The sun sinking through pure air, I take off my cap and stroll alone, Listening to the song of birds. No wild geese fly hither, And she is far away ; But my thoughts make her present As in the days gone by. Across the water dark clouds are whirled, Beneath the moonbeams the eyots stand revealed^ And sweet words are exchanged Though the great River rolls between."
 * Green pines and a rustic hut,

v. HEIGHT ANTIQUITY.

His hand grasping a lotus flower,
 * Lo the Immortal, borne by spirituality,

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