Chapter 15: The Literary World of Guyu — Rain, Grain, and Mulberry in the Book of Songs and the Songs of Chu

Section 1: Rain in the Book of Songs — From Praying for Rain to Praising Rain

Rain is an image that recurs throughout the Book of Songs, laden with feeling, and the core of this feeling resonates precisely with Guyu's theme of "rain giving birth to the hundred grains"—the longing for and gratitude toward timely rain.

We have already cited, from "Da Tian" in the "Lesser Odes": "The clouds gather thick and heavy; the rain comes gently, gently. May it fall first upon our lord's fields, and then extend to our own." Thick clouds gather, gentle rain descends slowly, moistening first the public fields, then extending to the private fields. This is a heartfelt tribute to timely rain, offered when a bountiful harvest is in prospect. The character "rain" in "may it fall... upon our lord's fields" is used as a verb, capturing with utter vividness that sense of grace in rain "actively moistening the fields." This is precisely the image that Guyu's rain holds in the farmer's heart—not indifferent weather, but Heaven's grace, actively moistening the fields out of favor toward humanity.

The Book of Songs also contains a great deal of sentiment expressing "prayer for rain." The ancients' attitude toward rain was one interwoven of longing and awe—hoping it would arrive in time (moistening the fields, bringing forth grain), yet fearing it might come late or fall violently (bringing drought or flood as calamity). This complex feeling reflects precisely the true psychology of agrarian civilization toward "rain," a matter of life and death. And Guyu's rain is precisely that kind of "timely rain" the ancients most longed for—arriving exactly at the right time, in exactly the right measure, moistening things and bringing forth grain without becoming a calamity. Those verses of prayer for rain and praise of rain in the Book of Songs may be regarded as the most ancient, most heartfelt hymns the ancients ever wrote for the rain of Guyu.

Section 2: Mulberry in the Book of Songs — A Collective Portrait of Mulberry-Gathering Maidens in Late Spring

Mulberry, and the gathering of mulberry leaves, form yet another cluster of images in the Book of Songs intimately bound to Guyu, sketching moving collective portraits of mulberry-gathering maidens in late spring.

We have already cited, from "Qiyue" in the "Odes of Bin," "the maidens take up their deep baskets... seeking the tender mulberry leaves," and from "Shi Mu Zhi Jian" in the "Odes of Wei," "the mulberry-gatherers move at ease." Beyond these, there are many more passages in the Book of Songs that take mulberry as their opening image or describe the matter of mulberry-gathering. For instance, "Meng" ("The Simple Peasant") in the "Odes of Wei" (Bei-Yong-Wei group): "Before the mulberry leaves fall, how lush and glossy they are... Now the mulberry leaves have fallen, turned yellow and dropped." Here the mulberry leaves' passage from lush abundance to withered decline serves as a metaphor for the woman's changing beauty and feelings. Though the mulberry here functions as figurative and evocative imagery, it also reveals just how commonplace the work of mulberry-gathering was in the ancients' daily life, how familiar they were with the mulberry tree—the mulberry was an everyday object they faced day after day, one upon which they placed their deepest feelings.

These poems of mulberry-gathering and mulberry-praising fix the sericulture and women's work of the Guyu season as an eternal theme in Chinese literature, full of human warmth. The countless later poems and song lyrics with titles like "Gathering Mulberry," "Mulberry by the Path," and "Picking-Mulberry Lyric" trace their living wellspring precisely to these scenes of late-spring mulberry recorded in the Book of Songs. A single small mulberry leaf, once sung of in the Book of Songs, comes to bear endless meaning—labor, youth, sentiment, the passing of years—and the seasonal backdrop for all of this is precisely late spring at Guyu, when "the hoopoe descends upon the mulberry," the mulberry leaves are first gathered, and the work of silkworms just begins to flourish.

Section 3: Fragrance in the Songs of Chu — Late-Spring Herbs and a Lament for Time

If the rain and mulberry of the Book of Songs express the plain simplicity of northern farming life, then late spring in the Songs of Chu (Chuci) carries an altogether different, southern fragrance and subtle sentiment.

The late spring depicted by Master Qu (Qu Yuan) is a world of luxuriant fragrant herbs, on the very verge of fading. In the Li Sao, he repeatedly likens himself to fragrant herbs and expresses his feelings through them: "I wore the river-mallow and secluded angelica; I wove the autumn orchid into a girdle-pendant... at dawn I gathered the magnolia on the hillside; at dusk I plucked the evergreen herb on the islet." He drapes himself in river-mallow and white angelica, weaves autumn orchid into an ornament to wear... in the morning gathers the magnolia on the hillside, in the evening picks the evergreen herb (suzu) on the sandbar.

These fragrant plants, at late spring (around the time of Guyu), are at their most luxuriant, and also closest to the moment of "beginning to fade." Master Qu likens himself to these plants, flourishing yet on the verge of fading, expressing through them his own noble character, while also implying a profound anxiety over the passage of time and the imminent fading of youthful splendor.

Especially poignant is Master Qu's fear that "the fair one" would grow old before her time—in the Li Sao: "The sun and moon hasten on without pause; spring and autumn take their turns in succession. Thinking of how the grasses and trees wither and fall, I fear that the fair one a metaphor for the sovereign, or for himself will grow old before her time." The sun and moon fly past without ceasing; spring departs and autumn arrives, each taking its turn; thinking of the withering and falling of grasses and trees, he fears that the fair one (a metaphor for the sovereign or for himself) will age prematurely. Late spring is precisely the turning moment when "spring is about to give way to its successor," when grasses and trees are about to turn from flourishing to decline—the moment most likely to stir this lament for "growing old before one's time." Guyu, standing within late spring, when the blossoms are about to end and spring's affairs are about to draw to a close, is precisely the typical season that gives rise to Master Qu's anxiety over "the fair one growing old before her time," over "time waiting for no one."

Section 4: The Image of Late Spring — From "Lamenting Spring" to "Cherishing Time," a Literary Motif

Guyu stands within late spring, and this quality of "spring about to end" makes it an important seasonal anchor for the eternal literary motifs of later ages—"lamenting spring," "cherishing spring," "cherishing time."

Why does late spring most readily give rise to this sentiment of "lamenting spring, cherishing time"$12 Because late spring is both the peak of splendor and the starting point at which that splendor begins to fade—when blossoms reach their fullest bloom, they are about to wither; when spring reaches its richest depth, it is about to pass away. This liminal moment of "flourishing at its height, about to decline" most readily stirs the profound sigh over how easily beauty fades and how difficult it is to hold time still. Master Qu's fear, discussed above, that "the fair one" would "grow old before her time," is precisely one of the earliest and most profound sources of this motif.

Yet it is worth noting that the late spring of Guyu does not carry only the negative aspect of "lamenting spring." It is, at the same time, the season of "rain giving birth to the hundred grains," of vitality at its most vigorous, of sowing at its busiest, a season of forward striving. And so the sentiment of late spring that Guyu carries truly has two faces: on one side, the literati's "lamenting spring, cherishing time"—sighing over the imminent end of splendor, the easy passing of time (as in Master Qu's anxiety); on the other, the farmer's "seizing the season, striving forward"—grasping the heaven-sent moment of rain giving birth to the hundred grains, striving to sow and tend the mulberry and silkworms (as in the diligence of "The Seventh Month").

These two faces—the sigh of cherishing time, and the diligence of seizing the season—appear opposed, yet are in fact complementary: it is precisely because one deeply knows how easily time passes (cherishing time) that one must all the more seize the present moment and strive with full effort (seizing the season). The literary world of Guyu thus encompasses, at once, Master Qu's sigh beside the river and the mulberry-gathering maiden's song in the fields, portraying, to the fullest, the complex sentiment of late spring, interwoven of "about to end" and "at its height."