of China.

I will not look--to-night I will not look--where at
my feet the little coffins are,
The boxes where the beggar children lie, unburied
and unwatched.
I will not look again, for once I saw how one was
broken, torn by the sharp teeth of dogs. A little
tattered dress was there, and some crunched
bones....
I need not look. What can it help to look?

Ah, I am past!
And still the sunset glows.
The tall pagoda, like a velvet flower, blossoms against
the sky; the Sacred Mountain fades, and in the
town a child laughs suddenly.
I will hold fast to beauty! Who am I, that I should
die for these?

I will go down. I am too sorely hurt, here on the
city wall.

Wusih


Woman

Strangely the sight of you moves me.
I have no standard by which to appraise you; the outer