No more the peach tree

No more the peach-tree droops beneath the snow;

Spring draws her breath the willow boughs among.

The mango-bird now maddens into song.

And the swift-building swallows come and go.

'Tis the time ofthe long daydreams, when laughing maybeams.

On the mats of slothful revellers play;

'Tis the time of glancing wings, and the dancing

Of moon-moths whirling the hours away;

When the golden armoured guardians are withdrawn.

Andpleasure haunts the rustling woods till dawn.

A warm and perfumed wind

Strays through the palace blind

And wandering prys into some dim retreat

Where every whisper stirs the heart to beat.

Now all the gey parterres,

Are rivals for the sun

That drains their jewelled goblets one by one

From dimpled terrace and green dewy stairs.

And the water-lily renders to the spring

The wonder ofher white unbosoming.

Far away in the tall woods there is an oriole calling;

There are shadows in the blue pavilion of dancers and music

rising and fallings

In the month of peach-bloom and plum-bloom, in the silken-

screened recess

Love is the burden of sweet voices and the brief night meltings

and the long caress.