I WAS going to the City to sell the herbs I had plucked; On the way I rested by some trees at the Blue Gate. Along the road there came a horseman riding; Whose face was pale with a strange look of dread. Friends and relations, waiting to say good-bye, Pressed at his side, but he did not dare to pause. I, in wonder, asked the people about me Who he was and what had happened to him. They told me this was a Privy Councillor Whose grave duties were like the pivot of State. His food allowance was ten thousand cash; Three times a day the Emperor came to his house. Yesterday he was called to a meeting of Heroes: To-day he is banished to the country of Yai-chou. So always, the Counsellors of Kings; Favour and ruin changed between dawn and dusk! Green, green, -- the grass of the Eastern Suburb; And amid the grass, a road that leads to the hills. Resting in peace among the white clouds, At last he has made a "coup" that cannot fail! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 9 by ALFRED TENNYSON CHILDREN OF LIGHT by BERNARD BARTON THE LAST MAN: RAIN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TO A SON OF EROS by LEE CARLTON BROWER RED COTTON NIGHT-CAP COUNTRY; OR, TURF AND TOWERS: PART 1 by ROBERT BROWNING |