China‘s Emperor，craving beauty that might shake an empire，

　　Was on the throne for many years，searching，never finding，

　　Till a little child of the Yang clan，hardly even grown，

　　Bred in an inner chamber，with no one knowing her，

　　But with graces granted by heaven and not to be concealed¹，

　　At last one day was chosen for the imperial household.

　　If she but turned her head and smiled，there were cast a hundred spells，

　　And the powder and paint of the Six Palaces faded into nothing.

　　……It was early spring. They bathed her in the FlowerPure Pool，

　　Which warmed and smoothed the creamy-tinted crystal of her skin，

　　And，because of her languor，a maid was lifting her

　　When first the Emperor noticed her and chose her for his bride.

　　The cloud of her hair，petal of her cheek，gold ripples of her crown when she moved，

　　Were sheltered on spring evenings by warm hibiscus curtains；