Recollections of My Children

Spring

When winter turns to spring,
The dews of morn in pearly radiance lie,
The mists of eve rise circling to the sky,
And Kaminábi's thickets ring
With the sweet notes the nightingale doth sing.

Anon.

Ne'er a melon can I eat,
But calls to mind my children dear;
Ne'er a chestnut crisp and sweet,
But makes the lov'd ones seem more near.
Whence did they come, my life to cheer?
Before mine eyes they seem to sweep,
So that I may not even sleep.
What use to me the gold and silver hoard?
What use to me the gems most rich and rare?
Brighter by far—aye! bright beyond compare—
The joys my children to my heart afford!

Yamagami-no Okura.