Back to Index

Liu Ch'e

by Ezra Pound, 1916

The rustling of the silk is discontinued,
Dust drifts over the courtyard,
There is no sound of footfall, and the leaves
Scurry into heaps and lie still,
And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them:
A wet leaf that clings to the threshold.

Published in Lustra
Tags: beauty

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.