On the Terrace of Assembled Angels

I
The sun has gone slanting over a lordly roof
And red-blossoming branches have leaned toward the dew
Since the Emperor last night summoned a new favourite
And Lady Yang’s bright smile came through the curtains.

II
The Emperor has sent for Lady Kuo Kuo.
In the morning, riding toward the palace-gate,
Disdainful of the paint that might have marred her beauty,
To meet him she smooths her two moth-tiny eyebrows.