My Dear One,
The house on the mountain-top has lost its soul. It is nothing but a palace with empty windows. I go upon the terrace and look over the valley where the sun sinks a golden-red ball, casting long purple shadows on the plain. Then I remember that thou art not coming from the city to me, and I say to myself that there can be no dawn that I care to see, and no sunset to gladden my eyes, unless I share it with thee.
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"The written word of Kwei-li, who sends with each stroke of her brush a part of her heart."
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Subjects
Chinese Painting, Love, Love Letters, Love-letters, WomenPlaces
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Edition Notes
"Illustrations chosen from paintings by old Chinese masters."
Also published as pt. 1 of "My lady of the Chinese courtyard" (New York, Frederick A. Stokes, 1914).
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- Created April 1, 2008
- 4 revisions
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July 14, 2024 | Edited by MARC Bot | import existing book |
September 13, 2020 | Edited by MARC Bot | import existing book |
December 14, 2009 | Edited by WorkBot | link works |
April 1, 2008 | Created by an anonymous user | Imported from Scriblio MARC record |