Here you will find thePoemJadeof poet Edith Wharton
THE patient craftsman of the East who made His undulant dragons of the veined jade, And wound their sinuous volutes round the whole Pellucid green redundance of the bowl, Chiseled his subtle traceries with the same Keen stone he wrought them in. Nor praise, nor blame, Nor gifts the years relinquish or refuse, But only a grief commensurate with thy soul, Shall carve it in a shape for gods to use.
