What are the latest poems describing chrysanthemums?
Poetry began in the pre-Qin period and flourished in the Tang and Song dynasties, during which many famous poets emerged. Among their widely circulated famous lines, the chrysanthemum is the third of China's top ten famous flowers and one of the Four Gentlemen among flowers (plum blossom, orchid, bamboo, chrysanthemum). Do you know which poems describe chrysanthemums? Let's take a look together below!
"Chrysanthemum"
Ming dynasty · Shen Zhou
When autumn fills the fence's foot, the flowers first appear, yet from cold plainness they meet with splendour.
The west wind at the gate and path holds fragrance still; apart from Tao's home, it comes to mine.
"Ode to the Chrysanthemum"
Song dynasty · Yang Wanli
Each thing's nature has always been its own; who covets cold leanness and tires of the years?
The white chrysanthemum chooses by itself the land of wind and frost; it is not that spring light excludes the chrysanthemum.
"Chrysanthemum"
Ming dynasty · Tang Yin
In the old garden's three paths, a hidden clump puts forth; one night the dark frost falls from the blue sky.
How many wanderers at the world's edge have not returned, all leaning on the fence to watch the autumn wind.
"Remembering the Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
Grieving, I gaze at the west wind and hold my pent-up thoughts; when knotweed is red and reeds white, the heart breaks.
The empty fence and old garden show no trace of autumn; the lean moon and clear frost are known only in dreams.
Thought after thought my heart follows the returning geese far away; alone I sit listening to the evening fulling block, spellbound.
Who pities me for pining over the yellow flowers? Comforting words: the Double Ninth Festival will come again.
"Visiting the Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
At leisure, taking advantage of the clear frost, I try a stroll; do not linger over the wine cup and medicine bowl.
Before the frost and beneath the moon, who planted them? Beyond the rail and by the fence, where is autumn?
In waxed clogs I come from afar, my feelings full; coldly I chant without end, my mood flowing on.
If the yellow flowers understand pity for the poet, do not fail the staff I lean on this day.
"Planting Chrysanthemums"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
With hoe in hand I move them myself from the autumn garden; by the fence and before the court I plant them deliberately.
Last night, unexpectedly, they came alive through rain; this morning I am glad they bloom still bearing frost.
Coldly chanting autumn colours, a thousand poems; drunk, I pour a libation to the cold fragrance with a cup of wine.
Diligently I cherish them with spring water and sealed soil; well I know the well path keeps off all dust.
"Facing the Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
Moved from another garden, they are prized like gold; one thread so pale, one clump so deep.
By the sparse fence I sit bare-headed; in the clear cold fragrance I hug my knees and chant.
Count the clouds: there is none more proud than you in the world; it seems only I am your true friend!
Autumn light slips away, do not waste it; facing each other, one should truly treasure every inch of time.
"Offering the Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
Playing the zither and pouring wine, glad to have such company; on the table it stands graceful, adorning the quiet.
Across the seats its fragrance shares the dew of the three paths; casting aside my book, I face a branch of autumn.
In the clear frost, paper curtains bring new dreams; the garden is cold in the slanting sun as I recall old travels.
It too scorns the world because we share the same spirit; spring breeze and peach and plum did not detain it.
"Ode to the Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
The shameless poetry demon invades from dusk to dawn; around the fence and leaning on stones I murmur to myself.
At the brush tip I marshal grace and write facing the frost; with fragrance on my lips I chant to the moon.
On the whole page I pity myself and inscribe plain grievances; whose single phrase can explain and tell the autumn heart?
Ever since Magistrate Tao judged and praised it, its lofty spirit has been spoken of to this day.
"Painting the Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
After poetry, my playful brush knows no wildness; how could it be that painting takes such striving?
Gathered leaves splash into a thousand dots of ink; clustered flowers dye out a few traces of frost.
Pale and deep, the spirit meets the shadow before the wind; lively autumn is born as fragrance beneath the wrist.
Do not take it for idle plucking by the eastern fence; pasted on a screen, it serves to comfort the Double Ninth.
"Questioning the Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
I wish to ask about autumn's mood, but no one knows; murmuring, hands behind my back, I knock at the eastern fence.
With your lone proud mark scorning the world, with whom do you hide? Why do you bloom so late like all the rest?
"Wearing the Chrysanthemum in the Hair"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
Offered in a vase or planted by the fence, busy every day; when picked, do not think it is adornment in the mirror.
The young lord of Chang'an has a passion for flowers; the gentleman of Pengze is a wine-mad one.
My short temples are coldly wet with the dew of the three paths; my coarse cap is fragrant with the frost of the ninth autumn.
Lofty feelings do not enter the eyes of worldly folk; let them clap their hands and laugh by the roadside.
"Chrysanthemum Shadow"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
Autumn light layers and layers, again and again; secretly it crosses and steals through the three paths.
The window screens the sparse lamp, tracing near and far; the fence sieves the broken moon, locking in delicate grace.
The cold fragrance leaves its image, the soul should linger; the frost print conveys spirit, yet the dream is empty too.
Treasure the hidden fragrance, do not tread it to pieces; on whose drunken eyes can it rely to be recognized in the haze?
"Chrysanthemum Dream"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
By the fence in autumn's deep drunkenness, one clear sleep; with clouds and moon it is indistinct.
Ascending to immortality, I do not envy Zhuangzi's butterfly; remembering old days, I still seek the pact with Tao.
Falling asleep, lingering, it follows the geese and breaks off; startled awake, again and again vexed by the cricket's cry.
When awake, to whom shall this hidden grievance be told? Withered grass and cold mist hold infinite feeling!
"Fading Chrysanthemum"
Qing dynasty · Cao Xueqin
Dew congeals and frost lies heavy, gradually it leans askew; the feast and enjoyment have just passed at the time of Light Snow.
The stem keeps lingering fragrance, its gold grown faint; the branches have no whole leaves, their green all scattered.
"Writing on White Chrysanthemums at the Double Ninth Banquet"
Tang dynasty · Bai Juyi
In the whole garden the chrysanthemums are richly golden; among them one lone clump is coloured like frost.
It is just like today's singing and drinking feast, where white-haired elders join the gathering of youths.
"Matching Lord Linghu's Enjoyment of White Chrysanthemums"
Tang dynasty · Liu Yuxi
In every house the chrysanthemums are all yellow; only in the Liang Garden are they like frost.
Lustrous and serene, truly a jade tree; clearly they face the jade hall.
Immortals draped in snow cloaks; plain maidens without red adornment.
Powder-white butterflies find it hard to appear; hemp garments brushed grow more fragrant.
Facing the wind they wave feather fans; holding dew they drip with jade nectar.
Lofty brilliance veils the silver well; thick branches cover the ivory couch.
The osmanthus clump is ashamed to bloom at the same time; the plum bud envies its earlier fragrance.
One man chants of jade splendour, and from then on it spreads through the musical chapters.
"Chrysanthemum"
Song dynasty · Ouyang Xiu
Sitting together by the railing as the sun inclines; again I float golden stamens in the flowing clouds.
If you would know the medicine that wards off age and prolongs life, it is that which blooms only when a hundred grasses are destroyed.
"Mid-Autumn Moon"
Tang dynasty · Su Shi
Evening clouds gather and scatter, brimming with clear cold; the Milky Way is silent as the jade disk turns.
This life, this night, will not long be fine; where shall we watch the bright moon next year?
"Chrysanthemum"
Tang dynasty · Yuan Zhen
Autumn clumps around the house, like Tao's home; all around the fence the sun gradually slants.
It is not that among flowers I favour the chrysanthemum; once this flower has bloomed, there are no more flowers.
"Painting the Chrysanthemum"
Southern Song dynasty · Zheng Sixiao
Its flowers do not open among the hundred blooms; standing alone by the sparse fence, its delight is endless.
I would rather die on the branch, holding my fragrance, than ever be blown down in the north wind!
"Drunk in the Shade of Flowers · Thin Mist and Thick Clouds Sadden the Endless Day"
Song dynasty · Li Qingzhao
Thin mist and thick clouds sadden the endless day; the auspicious brain incense burns away in the golden beast.
The festival is the Double Ninth again; on the jade pillow and in the gauze curtain, the midnight chill first pierces.
After dusk I raise wine at the eastern fence; a hidden fragrance fills my sleeves.
Do not say it does not ravish the soul; the west wind rolls up the curtain, and the person is thinner than the yellow flower.
"Matching the Chief Secretary · No. 2"
Tang dynasty · Tao Yuanming
Gentle rains spread through all three springs; the clear and cool season of plain autumn.
Dew congeals with no drifting mist; the sky is high and the solemn scene is clear.
Lofty peaks rise from the hills; viewed from afar, all are wondrous beyond compare.
Fragrant chrysanthemums bloom and shine in the woods; green pines crown the rows of cliffs.
I cherish this steadfast and lovely bearing, outstanding as a hero beneath the frost.
Holding the cup, I think of the recluse; for a thousand years I stroke your parting words.
I examine the plain silk but cannot unfold it; listlessly the fine month passes.
"Passing by an Old Friend's Village"
Tang dynasty · Tao Yuanming
My old friend prepares chicken and millet, and invites me to his farm home.
Green trees close around the village; blue mountains slant beyond the walls.
Opening the window to face the field and garden, raising wine we talk of mulberry and hemp.
When the Double Ninth day comes, I will return to enjoy the chrysanthemums.