In My Lodge at Wang Chuan(After a Long Rain.)

 The woods have stored the rain, and slow comes the smoke 
As rice is cooked on faggots and carried to the fields; 
Over the quiet marsh-land flies a white egret, 
And mango-birds are singing in the full summer trees.... 
I have learned to watch in peace the mountain morningglories, 
To eat split dewy sunflower-seeds under a bough of pine, 
To yield the post of honour to any boor at all.... 
Why should I frighten sea gulls, even with a thought?

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