University of Virginia Library

Small is the cooing dove ,
But it flies aloft up to heaven .
My heart is wounded with sorrow ,
And I think of our forefathers .
When the dawn is breaking , and I cannot sleep ,
The thoughts in my breast are of our parents .

Men who are grave and wise ,
Though they drink , are mild and masters of themselves ;
But those who are benighted and ignorant ,
Are devoted to drink , and more so daily .
Be careful , each of you , of your deportment ;—
What Heaven confers , [when once lost] , is not regained .

In the midst of the plain there is pulse ,
And the common people gather it .
The mulberry insect has young ones ,
And the sphex carries them away .
Teach and train your sons ,
And they will become good as you are .

Look at the wagtail ,
Flying , and at the same time twittering .
My days are advancing ;
Your months are going on .
Rising early and going to sleep late ,
Do not disgrace those who gave you birth .

The greenbeaks come and go ,
Pecking up grain about the stack-yard .
Alas for the distressed and solitary ,
Deemed fit inmates for the prisons !
With a handful of grain I go out and divine ,
How I may be able to become good .

We must be mild , and humble ,
As if we were perched on trees .
We must be anxious and careful ,
As if we were on the brink of a valley .
We must be apprehensive and cautious ,
As if we were treading upon thin ice .