Lighter Verse
Chang Tso-lin
THEY say that Chang Tso-lin is dead— I shall be sorry if that is true— Seeing again his round black head That nodded above his robe of blue When, gravely polite, he talked to you.
He looked like a little Oxford don,
With his gentle voice, and his courteous smile—
A don in a gentian dressing-gown Full of humour and quiet guile.
(Where was the bandit all the while ?) But he was fearless as any in war For all his bullet-proof limousines.
(He drove about in one of four With Lewis-guns mounted on the screens And silver spittoons behind the scenes.) I remember him at a foreign dance In a robe of black brocade, that night, Sliding his slow, impervious glance Over the guests from left to right Who filed before him, faintly polite.
To each who passed him, face to face, He made his little cautious bow.
But when he saw me, he left his place, Smiled, stepped forward down the row, And clasped his hands, and said, " Nin hao "• Co clasping mine, I said, " Ta Hsuai hao ? " (How may the Great Commander be ?) Chang beamed at that, and bowed down low, Liking the ancient flattery Of the Viceroy's title that used to be.
We went together and drank champagne ; Touched glasses, each with a courtly bend ; He spoke of the latest hydroplane And magic—and said to me at the end, " Nin wo-ti pang-yo I " (You're my friend) A few days later I came away I've not seen Chang Tso-lin since then. Is he really dead, as the papers say ? Well, I shan't drink wine with him again— Oddest of friends among all men I How are 'you ?
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