WIND-BOUND AT THE NEW FOREST REACH. A LETTER SENT TO A FRIEND

Tidal water is a determined thing, it can be depended on; But it is impossible to make an appointment with the wind of Heaven. In the clear dawn, it veers Northwest; At the last moment of sunset, it blows Southeast. It is therefore difficult to set our sail. The thought of our happy meeting becomes insistent. The wide water reflects a moon no longer round, but broken. Water grass springs green in the broad reach. Yesterday, at the North Lake, there were plum-flowers; They were just beginning to open, the branches were not covered. To-day, at dawn, see the willows beyond the White Gate; The road is squeezed between them, they drop down their bright green silk threads. Everything stirs like this, with the year— When will my coming be fixed? Willow-blossoms lie thick as snow on the river, I am worried, the heart of the traveller is sad. "At daybreak I will leave the New Forest Reach"— But what is the use of humming Hsieh T'iao's poem.