The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
2Again she wakes him with the words,
"The east, my lord, is bright.
A crowded court your presence seeks;
Get up, and hail the light."
’Twas not the dawning light which shone,
But that which by the moon was thrown.
3He sleeping still, once more she says,
"The flies are buzzing loud.
To lie and dream here by your side
Were pleasant, but the crowd
Of officers will soon retire;
Draw not on you and me their ire!"