PART II.
In the tenth Moon—none wist why—
Sick that Lady lay:
As from cherry boughs the bloom
Falls, so fell away
Cheeks' fresh tint, and ripe lips' rosy dye.
More and more the gentle face
Weary grew and wan:
Those that saw her in the Spring-tide—
Sweet O Haru San—
Cried: "Oh, where is gone such youth and grace?"
Grave physicians gathered nigh
Famed for healing lore;
Sovereign herbs they culled and boiled:
Not one whit the more
Gained she glow of cheek or light of eye.
