An Ode Appropriate To A Festivity

The dew lies heavy all around,

  Nor, till the sun shines, leaves the ground.

  Far into night we feasting sit;

  We drink, and none his place may quit.

  The dew lies heavy, and its gems

  Stud the luxuriant, grassy stems.

  The happy night with wassail rings;

  So feasted here the former kings.

  The jujube and the willow-tree

  All fretted with the dew we see.

  Each guest's a prince of noble line,

  In whom the virtues all combine.

  The _t'ung_ and _e_ their fruits display,

  Pendant from every graceful spray.

  My guests are joyous and serene,

  No haggard eye, no ruffled mien.