The Lady Lo-Fu
On a bright and sunny morning,
From her mother's house there came,
One who needed no adorning, -
Lo-Fu was the lady's name.
On her arm a basket swinging,
Made of silk her own hand wesaves,
Forth she wanders blithely singing,
Bent on gathering mulberry leaves.
From her head in graceful tresses,
Falls the fine and lustrous hair,
While each shapely ear caresses
Just one pearl of beauty rare.