Disappointment

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.