Part 6

Yet when he sought assistance to return to his own country, Being without means, And hung at the ear of notable men who could help him, They refused to hear him, And would in no way help him to go where his heart was set. Even the charitable ones regretted That his case was not for them.

Wherefore my friend forsook his quiet and regular ways, And went about as one possessed by thunder and fire, Stormily; doing many things of a reprehensible character, Committing grave misdemeanours in the public streets, And following evil ways in a manner to attract attention.

Whereupon, The lords of this country placed him upon a boat, And commanded that he should be carried, at their own cost, To his own country, whither he most desired to go.

An Upright Man

The grave and thin-faced one who keeps the Bespoke Tailor's Shop, And subjects his child to treatment of a most disagreeable nature, Never goes into the Blue Lantern, Never takes pellet of li-un or nut of areca, Or communes with Black Smoke, Or loses money at puckapoo, Or makes public outcry or gesture Expressive of delight in his friends, Or does foolish and unworthy things, Or makes exchange of hats with friends.

He has no friends, for he has no weaknesses. While others fall to the simple follies of humanity He walks ever upright and self-contained, devout and dignified, And ill-treats his child at night.

Breaking-Point

Many heavy blows has this patient person's back received, These many years. He has lost friends and money; He has lost his own country; His well-framed enterprises have gone awry. And his heart has gone hungry these many years for love.

All these things he has suffered without murmur. One thing alone has driven him to utter piercing cries, And make gestures expressive of volcano in eruption: And that is the bootmender across the road Who sings hymns to himself in the evening.

For that is true that the sage has spoken: That it is the smell of gin-and-onions about the secretary Which drives his master, who long has suffered gin-and-cloves, To the breaking-point of inexpressible exasperation.

An English Gentleman

I determined yesterday to become English gentleman; And I have this morning bought a bowler hat. I have bought brown boots and a suit of rare blue serge, Which the affable one who supplied me with it Spoke of as Natty, and added his assurance That I would look Quite the Gentleman. I have bought white collars and many-coloured ties, And a walking-stick and a blue-spotted shirt.

Apparelled thus, I strolled this evening down Pennyfields, And the old men came out with expressions of no-kindness. They made ugly mouths, And passed words one to the other of a derisive nature.

But I am young Quong Lee, Who write verse in the English tongue, And am quite English gentleman. And English gentleman Not suffer himself to be disturbed by hooting of owls.