To cheer him through the evening storm;
But in fallen leaves that have heaped the bare slopes,
How should I ever find his footprints!
...Spring passes.... Far down the river now, I find you alone under falling petals.
I wish I might take him a cup of wine
To cheer him through the evening storm; But in fallen leaves that have heaped the bare slopes, How should I ever find his footprints!
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Where tender grasses rim the stream
And deep boughs trill with mango-birds, On the spring flood of last night\'s rain The ferry-boat moves as though someone were poling |