The Ch‘u Ch‘i Tung Mên; narrative. A man's praise of his own poor wife, contrasted with flaunting beauties.

1My path forth from the east gate lay,
Where cloudlike moved the girls at play.
Numerous are they, as clouds so bright,
But not on them my heart's thoughts light. p. 102
Dressed in a thin white silk, with coiffure gray,
Is she, my wife, my joy in life's low way.

2  Forth by the covering wall's high tower,
  I went, and saw, like rush in flower,
  Each flaunting girl. Brilliant are they,
  But not with them my heart's thoughts stay.
In thin white silk, with headdress madder-dyed,
Is she, my sole delight, ’foretime my bride.