I02 Bird -Lore 



The following lines taken from a poem describing a stone image known for 

 "a thousand autumns" as the Celestial Weaver hints at the careful observa- 

 tion of the poet who wrote them: 



"And since she breathes not, being stone, the birds 



Light on her shoulders, flutter without fear at her still breast. ..." 



' How beautiful and fresh the grass returns ! 



When golden days decline, the meadow burns; 

 Yet autumn suns no hidden root have slain, 



The spring winds blow, and there is grass again." 



"In green pavilions of warm trees 



The golden builders toil and sing; 

 While swallows dip along the leas. 

 And dabble in the ooze of Spring." 



"The peach blooms open on the eastern wall — 

 I breathe their fragrance, laughing in the glow 

 Of golden noontide. Suddenly there comes 

 The revelation of the ancient wind. 

 Flooding my soul with glory; till I feel 

 One with the brightness of the first far dawn, 

 One with the many-coloured spring; and all 

 The secrets of the scented hearts of flowers 

 Are whispered through me; ..." 



Could any words express more exquisitely than these the spirit of 'tranquil 

 repose' discerned by the poet-seer in the familiar aspects of nature about him? 



"It dwells in the quiet silence, 

 Unseen upon hill and plain, 

 'Tis lapped by the tideless harmonies, 

 It soars with the lonely crane." 



It is such a worshipper of nature who bares his head "while some far 

 thrush the silence stirs," and as he scans the sky, welcoming now some early 

 flock of wild geese, or reveling in flowers, and making the world his 'dream- 

 ing-place,' voices the feeling of every one who loves nature and finds in it 

 rest and never-ending refreshment. 



Who has not, at times at least, felt himself in 'a world apart,' like the 

 ancient Taoist philosopher, exiled and a wanderer, going by the title of the 

 "Old Fisherman of the Mists and Waters," (though as he explained, "he spent 

 his time in angling, but used no bait, his object not being to catch fish")? 



These are the lines of his poem entitled: 



A WORLD APART 



The Lady Moon is my lover, I would liefer follow the condor 



My friends are the oceans four. Or the seagull, soaring from ken, 



The heavens have roofed me over, Than bury my godhead yonder 



And the dawn is my golden door. In the dust of the whirl of men." 



