Ballad Of The Tea Pickers

By S. Wells Williams

Where thousand hills the vale enclose, our little
hut is there,
And on the sloping sides around the tea grows
everywhere;
So I must rise at early dawn, as busy as can be,
To get my daily labor done, and pluck the
leafy tea.

No sweeter perfume does the fair Aglaia shed,
Throughout Wu-yuen’s bounds my tea the
choicest will be said;
When all are picked we’ll leave the shoots to
bud again in spring,
But for this morning we have done the third,
last gathering.

Our time is up, and yet not full our baskets to
the mouth.
The twigs anorth are full searched, let’s seeks
them in the south;
Just then by chance I snapped a twig whose
leaves were all afar;
See, with my taper fingers how I fix it in my
hair.

Ye twittering swallows, rise and fall in your
flight around the hill,
But when next I go to high Sunglo, I’ll change
my gown, I will;
And I’ll roll up the cuff and show arm enough,
for my arm is fair to see;
Oh, if ever there were a fair round arm, that
arm belongs to me.

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