The golden nenuphar

Still moonlight floods the inner gallery,

Where the japonica sets fluttering

Her silvered petals. Languidly

I rise, and let my absent glance

Fall where the shadows of the swing

Over the door-step dance.

I am possessed

By spring's rough humid winds that penetrate

The silken curtains of my lonely state,

And cannot rest,

For all my sorrow.

During the night I hear the heavy rain

Crash on the lotus pool afar.

To-morrow! ah to-morrow!

The little boat lies swamped that I would fain

Have steered in search of the golden nenuphar.