Ann Mortifee Oriental Breeze
And the plum trees are blooming every spring
And the mists are clinging in a ring
Around the valley's floor
As scores of plump round birds come winging home
It furthers one to cross the great water
It furthers one to cross the wide sea
It furthers one to cross o'er the mountain
In reverie
How gentle is the oriental breeze
How tender are the buds on trees
That sway beside the quiet stream
To dreams that sun-browned fishermen weave
It furthers one to seek a wise master
It furthers one to seek an old sage
It furthers one to know that your own heart
All things contain
