Changed Times

O the gentry of the mother city,
In their tawny tawny fox-furs decked!
Theirs were manners that were aye unchanging,
Theirs was speech well-measured and correct.
Back to Chow, then!
There would all the world the like expect.

O the gentry of the mother city,
In the splint hats, and black coifs (of yore)!
O the high-born, honourable ladies,
Who the loose or braided tresses wore!
These I see not,
And no satisfaction have I more.

O the gentry of the mother city,—
Plugs of gems adorning every ear.
O the high-born, honourable ladies, —
Each a Yin or Kih might well appear.
These I see not;
And my heart is wrung with sorrow here.

O the gentry of the mother city,
With the cinctures dangling o'er their thighs!
O the high-born, honourable ladies,
"With the tresses curling scorpion-wise!
These I see not: —
Far I'd go to feast thereon these eyes!

Not that those themselves would dangle cinctures:
'Twas that full ones were the fashion there.
Not that these again would curl their tresses:
'Twas the rule to so adorn the hair.
This I see not,
O to gaze thereon again — but where?