University of Virginia Library

Japanese Poems

THE GRATEFUL FOXES.

(A Japanese Story, in the Japanese Manner.)

FUJI-YAMA.

THE MUSMEE.

AN INTRODUCTION.

[Blue-eyed Alice! once more pass]

THE EMPEROR'S BREAKFAST.

“SAYONARA.”

Which word, of all the words for parting made,
Seems best to say, and sweetest, being said?
Which holds most tenderness, and least despair,
And lingers longest in the loved one's ear?
O Yoshi San! O Fuku San! when we
Must say “Good-bye,” shall that the last word be,
Our English “God be with you?” or, in phrase
Of Persia, “Khuda hafîz”—“All your days
Heaven keep you!” Or, as the Egyptians do,
“Lailatak saïd!”—“Happy night to you!”
Or, in the Arab manner, hand on brow,
“Salaam aleikum!”—“Peace be with you now!”
Or, in the soft Italian—“Addio!”
“To God I give you, since—alas!—I go.”
“Ora d' partenza!” Or, as they of Spain,
“Hasta la vista!”—“Till we meet again!”
“Vaya con Dios!”—“Go thy ways with God!”
Or lightly, with the lively Frenchman's nod,
“Bon soir, mais sans adieu!”—“Good-night, and yet
No speech of parting till once more we are met!”
Or solemn Sanskrit “Swâgatam;” or word
Of guttural German, at hand-shaking heard,
“Auf wiedersehen.” Or any far-fetched speech
Of India, China, Russia, seeking each
Some pretty gentle wish to charm away
The sorrow of the thing they have to say?
No! it shall not be any one of these,
But “Sayonara,” in soft Japanese;
For this at worst, means “Since it must be so!”
And, while we speak the sad word, who can know
We shall not change it to “So de wa nai!”
And have no Sayonara then to say?

AT SEA.

THE “NO” DANCE.

She.
“Fisher-boy! give back to me
The dress I hanged upon the tree!”

He.
“Oh thou! well-clad in beauty bright!
Form of glory, face of light!
Honourably deign to tell
Where such charms celestial dwell.
What thy name, august, may be,
Fairest! first reveal to me!”

She.
“I am come from Heaven's domain:
If I spoke it ne'er so plain
You my name could never hear
As the Angels say it there.
Flying past your little star,
All so fair it looked, afar—
Silvery sea and snow-tipped hill—
That I had an idle will
Once to set my foolish feet
On those flowers that shone so sweet.
So I laid my robe aside
In the tree which you espied:
And, without it—shame and woe!
To my home I cannot go!”

He.
“Loveliest Lady! little mind
Had I, at the first, my find
Ever to surrender. Now
When you deign to tell me how,
If I keep it, you must stay,
No more for your garment pray!”

She.
“Ah! why did I quit my sky
Where yon happy sea-birds fly,
And the wild swan spreads her wings
While the wind between them sings;
And the free storks urge their flight
Strong across the spangled night?
Render back my robe, and soon
I shall soar beyond the Moon,
Thread the star-paths, and pursue
Light and life beyond the blue.
Mortal! 'tis impiety
Not to give mine own to me!”

He.
“Always I would have you here,
Fairy! bright, and sweet, and dear.
Will you not, for love of love
Let go longing for above?
I would let go all but life
If I might but make you wife!”

She.
“Fisher-boy! this sea of thine
Maddens thee with mighty wine!
Fair thou art: yet thou and I
Are as is the sea and sky,
Which may meet but cannot marry;
If, for love of you, I'd tarry,
'Twere as though a cloud should wed
With some hill-top. Soft night sped
Lone the hill rises. Thouch my hand
And better shalt thou understand.”

He.
“I cannot take it! Plain I see
The soft, smooth skin, so velvety,
Of hand and wrist! Yet, when I clasp,
It is a mist melts in my grasp.
Now, I would give you back this dress
If you will change such loveliness
To solid flesh, not floating air,
Oh, thou than living flesh more fair!”

She.
“Peace! most foolish boy and fond!
I am what those are beyond;
More substantial, didst thou know,
Than this flesh and blood below.
Give me back the robe whereby
I may once more reach my sky,
And, for deed of gentilesse,
When I don again my dress,
I will dance, to do thee pleasure,
One round of our heavenly measure;
I will sing, to comfort thee,
One strain of the melody
Heard by souls divine, in sphere
Where the Light is lovelier!”

He.
“Ah! to see you fly I dread
When I yield this wonder! Tread
First your measure, Lady sweet!
Then I place it at your feet.”

She.
“Shame upon thee! I have heard
Men will break a plighted word,
But with us this is not so!
All unveiled the Spirits go;
And nay is nay, and yes is yes:
I dance not else! Give me the dress!”
Then see we Hakuriyô, blushing deep,
Lay at her foot the golden-feathered gown
Alight with silvery white and scarlet fires.
And while the samisens make chords of joy
O Tsuru kneels, and gathers wistfully
The shining marvel round her shoulders: laughs
For pleasure to be safe re-plumed: then glides—
With voice of melting notes, and paces fair
Falling as light as fir-cones, to the dance:

She.
“Now it is mine again
I am fain, I am fain
To pay you true, as a Spirit should do
With secrets of Heaven made plain.
Yet, not for long can I sing this song,
Nor dance the dance of the skies;
Your earth shows fair,
But dense is the air,
And we wonder not if your eyes
A very small part of the splendour see
Laid upon river and lea:
Only one gleam of the glory shed
From Fuji's diademed head
Down to this leaf of the momiji-tree
Which knows and courtesys to me:
For I and the maple-leaf are one
As we hear, as we hear
The tender unnoticed tone
Of your Earth's voice, ceaseless and clear:
And we move to the swing
Of your star, in the ring
She weaves round the flying Sun;
Weaves so—so—so:—
Which the waves understand
And the wind and the sand:
But you cannot ever know!”

She.
“And Love—sweet Love!
Oh less than the splendour spread
From Fuji's head
To the sea, and the grass, and the grove
Know ye the deep things of this!
A little men taste its bliss
In the belov'd one's charms,
And the close-wound arms,
And the spirits which almost kiss
Through their dividing bodies; and delight
Of mother-love and father-love, and friends
Hand-fast, and heart-fast! But Death's sudden night
Comes; and in gloom, it seems, Love's sunshine ends.
Thus Love's warm golden wing
Shields not from shuddering
The souls it covers, chilled with dread to part.
Ah! could I tell,
Who see it near and well,
The far truth freely to each beating heart
Not on your tearful planet once again
Should Love be pain,
Nor from your blinded eyes should salt tears start.
But that which I would teach
Hath in your human speech
No words to name such comfort rich and great;
Therefore dream on, asleep,
And, dreaming, weep!
And wait! a little,—yet a little wait!”

She.
“Steps of my silvery star
Dancing alone, afar
So still, so slow
No mortal may know
How stately her footsteps are;
Nor what fair music is guide of her feet,
Solemn and high and sweet;
All in a tune
To the Sun and the Moon,
And the drums that the glad worlds beat.
As long a path as your little orb goes,
From the first of her flowers to the last of her snows
My white Home sweeps in a night;
Knowing not haste, knowing no rest,
For delight
In the life of her silver light
And joy of the wide blue waste,
Where the Angels pass
Like fish through the sea's green glass,
But you cannot see that sight!”