THE patient craftsman of the East who made <br />His undulant dragons of the veined jade, <br />And wound their sinuous volutes round the whole <br />Pellucid green redundance of the bowl, <br />Chiseled his subtle traceries with the same <br />Keen stone he wrought them in. <br />Nor praise, nor blame, <br />Nor gifts the years relinquish or refuse, <br />But only a grief commensurate with thy soul, <br />Shall carve it in a shape for gods to use.<br /><br />Edith Wharton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/jade-8/
