The gems on the tea-twigs are treasures long- cherished;
The hillsides are glowing with green, fragrant tea.
What joy it will be to dry leaf o’er the brazier;
‘Tis time, now, to pluck the young shoots from
“Wu’s salt” when admix’t with the drink is a
The crystal-clear water from woods that are bare.
Such things by their nature are clean, and are
And tea cups from Keng Hsin, on trays that
A sip of tea o’er the clouds will transport us;
it’s clean as the core of a rock, I declare.
Like Yoga with powers that daily are growing,
The tea’s fine aroma still clings to the air.