"Gather thy blossom, ere it be stolen"
Far away within the East,
a monarch kept his state,
and near him, just across the bridge,
there lived a prince (see plate).

The monarch had a daughter fair.
The prince in love was he.
"No, no, good man," the monarch said,
"My daughter stays with me."

But to her lover, she wrote:
"Gather thy blossom, ere it be stolen..."

Across the bridge the lovers fled.
The king pursued irate.
They hied them to a little boat
and sailed away (see plate).

Alas the stormy winds did blow,
as cruel as cruel could be.
They dashed the boat upon the rocks,
and drowned them in the sea.

But changed to birds by fairies kind,
their spirits rose elate.
And even now about the king,
they hover still (see plate).

Two birds flying high,
a Chinese vessel sailing by,
a bridge with three men, sometimes four,
a willow tree hanging o'er,
a Chinese temple, there it stands,
built upon the river sands,
an apple tree with apples on,
a crooked fence to end my song.

"Gather thy blossom, ere it be stolen."