  Across the bridge, with scarlet lacquer glowing, That o'er the Katashiha's stream is laid, All trippingly a tender girl is going, In bodice blue and crimson skirt arrayed. None to escort her: would that I were knowing Whether alone she sleeps on virgin bed, Or if some spouse has won her by his wooing:— Tell me her house! I'll ask the pretty maid! Anon. |
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