The dolichos grows and covers the thorn,
O'er the waste is the dragon-plant creeping.
The man of my heart is away and I mourn--
What home have I, lonely and weeping?

Covering the jujubes the dolichos grows,
The graves many dragon-plants cover;
But where is the man on whose breast I'd repose?
No home have I, having no lover!

Fair to see was the pillow of horn,
And fair the bed-chamber's adorning;
But the man of my heart is not here, and I mourn
All alone, and wait for the morning.

While the long days of summer pass over my head,
And long winter nights leave their traces,
I'm alone! Till a hundred of years shall have fled,
And then I shall meet his embraces.

Through the long winter nights I am burdened with fears,
Through the long summer days I am lonely;
But when time shall have counted its hundreds of years
I then shall be his--and his only!


About Confucius


Confucius (/kənˈfjuːʃəs/; September 28, 551 – 479 BC)\[2\]\[3\] was a Chinese teacher, editor, politician, and philosopher of the Spring and Autumn period of Chinese history. The philosophy of Confucius emphasized personal and governmental morality, correctness of social relationships, justice and sincerity. His followers competed successfully with many other schools during the Hundred Schools of Thought era only to be suppressed in favor of the Legalists during the Qin Dynasty. Following the victory of Han over Chu after the collapse of Qin, Confucius's thoughts received official sanction and were further developed into a system known as Confucianism. Confucius is traditionally credited... Read more...

Poet of the day

Edward George Dyson was an Australian poet, journalist and short story writer.

He was born at Morrisons near Ballarat in March 1865. His father, George Dyson, arrived in Australia in 1852 and after working on various diggings became a mining engineer, his mother came from a life of refinement in...
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Poem of the day


J'aime ton nom d'Apollonie,
Echo grec du sacré vallon,
Qui, dans sa robuste harmonie,
Te baptise soeur d'Apollon.

Sur la lyre au plectre d'ivoire,
Ce nom splendide et souverain,
Beau comme l'amour et la gloire,
Prend des résonances d'airain.

Classique, il fait plonger les...
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