THE SAPPHO OF CHINA

OF fresh, new silk, all snowy white,
And round as harvest moon,
A pledge of purity and love,
A small but welcome boon.

While summer lasts, borne in the hand,
Or folded on the breast,
Twill genntly soothe thy burning brow,
And charm thee to thy rest.

But, ah! When autumn frosts descend
And winter's winds blow cold,
No longer sought, no longer loved,
'Twill lie in dust and mold.