Part 5 (1/2)
The South Wind is a Troubadour; The Spring 's his serenade.
Over the mountain, over the moor, He blows to bloom from the winter's tomb Blossom and leaf and blade.
He ripples the throat Of the lark with a note Of lilting love and bliss, And the sun and the moon, the night and the noon, Are a-swoon-- When he woos them with his kiss.
TRANSCENDED
I who was learned in death's lore Oft held her to my heart And spoke of days when we should love no more-- In the long dust, apart.
”Immortal?” No--it could not be, Spirit with flesh must die.
Tho' heart should pray and hope make endless plea, Reason would still outcry.
She died. They wrapped her in the dust-- I heard the dull clod's dole, And then I knew she lived--that death's dark l.u.s.t Could never touch her soul!
LOVE'S WAY TO CHILDHOOD
We are not lovers, you and I, Upon this sunny lane, But children who have never known Love's joy or pain.
The trees we pa.s.s, the summer brook, The bird that o'er us darts-- We do not know 'tis they that thrill Our childish hearts.
The earth-things have no name for us, The ploughing means no more Than that they like to walk the fields Who plough them o'er.
The road, the wood, the heaven, the hills Are not a World to-day-- But just a place G.o.d's made for us In which to play.
AUTUMN
I know her not by fallen leaves Or resting heaps of hay; Or by the sheathing mists of mauve That soothe the fiery day.
I know her not by plumping nuts, By redded hips and haws, Or by the silence hanging sad Under the wind's sere pause.
But by her sighs I know her well-- They are like Sorrow's breath; And by this longing, strangely still, For something after death.
s.h.i.+NTO
(MIYAJIMA, j.a.pAN, 1905)
Lowly temple and torii, Shrine where the spirits of wind and wave Find the wors.h.i.+p and glory we Give to the one G.o.d great and grave--
Lowly temple and torii, Shrine of the dead, I hang my prayer Here on your gates--the story see And answer out of the earth and air.
For I am Nature's child, and you Were by the children of Nature built.