“_Following our own bent, Enjoying the Natural, free from curb, Rich with what comes to hand, Hoping some day to be with God. To build a hut beneath the pines, With uncovered head to pore over poetry, Knowing only morning and eve, But not what season it may be.... Then, if happiness is ours, Why must there be action? If of our own selves we can reach this point, Can we not be said to have attained?_” xvi.--FASCINATION. “_Lovely is the pine-grove, With the stream eddying below, A clear sky and a snow-clad bank, Fishing-boats in the reach beyond. And she, like unto jade, Slowly sauntering, as I follow through the dark wood, Now moving on, now stopping short, Far away to the deep valley.... My mind quits its tenement, and is in the past, Vague, and not to be recalled, As though before the glow of the rising moon, As though before the glory of autumn._” xvii.--IN TORTUOUS WAYS. “_I climbed the Tai-hsing mountain By the green winding path, Vegetation like a sea of jade, Flower-scent borne far and wide. Struggling with effort to advance, A sound escaped my lips, Which seemed to be back ere ’twas gone, As though hidden but not concealed.[31] The eddying waters rush to and fro, Overhead the great rukh soars and sails; ~TAO~ does not limit itself to a shape, But is round and square by turns._” xviii.--ACTUALITIES. “_Choosing plain words To express simple thoughts, Suddenly I happened upon a recluse, And seemed to see the heart of TAO. Beside the winding brook, Beneath dark pine-trees’ shade, There was one stranger bearing a faggot, Another listening to the lute. And so, where my fancy led me, Better than if I had sought it, I heard the music of heaven, Astounded by its rare strains._” xix.--DESPONDENT “_A gale ruffles the stream And trees in the forest crack; My thoughts are bitter as death, For she whom I asked will not come. A hundred years slip by like water, Riches and rank are but cold ashes, ~TAO~ is daily passing away, To whom shall we turn for salvation? The brave soldier draws his sword, And tears flow with endless lamentation; The wind whistles, leaves fall, And rain trickles through the old thatch._” xx.--FORM AND FEATURE. “_After gazing fixedly upon expression and substance The mind returns with a spiritual image, As when seeking the outlines of waves, As when painting the glory of spring. The changing shapes of wind-swept clouds, The energies of flowers and plants, The rolling breakers of ocean, The crags and cliffs of mountains, All these are like mighty ~TAO~, Skilfully woven into earthly surroundings.... To obtain likeness without form, Is not that to possess the man?_” xxi.--THE TRANSCENDENTAL.