Part 8 (1/2)

But I've decided (you'll decide) That there is room for song on Monday.

I've seen the new sn.o.b on his way, The intellectual sn.o.b I mean, sir, The artist sn.o.b, in book and play, Kicking his mother round the scene, sir.

I've heard the Tories talk like fools; And the rich fool that apes the Tory.

I've seen the shopmen break your rules And die like Christ, in Christ's own glory.

But, as for you, that liberal sneer Reminds me of the poor old Kaiser.

He was a ”socialist,” my dear.

Well, I'm your grandson. You'll grow wiser.

MEMORIES OF THE PACIFIC COAST

I know a land, I, too, Where warm keen incense on the sea-wind blows, And all the winter long the skies are blue, And the brown deserts blossom with the rose.

Deserts of all delight, Cactus and palm and earth of thirsty gold, Dark purple blooms round eaves of sun-washed white, And that Hesperian fruit men sought of old.

O, to be wandering there, Under the palm-trees, on that sunset sh.o.r.e, Where the waves break in song, and the bright air Is crystal clean; and peace is ours, once more.

There Beauty dwells, Beauty, re-born in whiteness from the foam; And Youth returns with all its magic spells, And the heart finds its long-forgotten home,--

Home--home! Where is that land?

For, when I dream it found, the old hungering cry Aches in the soul, drives me from all I planned, And sets my sail to seek another sky.

NIPPON

Last night, I dreamed of Nippon....

I saw a cloud of white Drifting before the sunset On seas of opal light.

Beyond the wide Pacific I saw its mounded snow Miraculously changing In that deep evening glow,

To rosy rifts and hillocks, To orchards that I knew, To snows of peach and cherry, And feathers of bamboo.

I saw, on twisted bridges, In blue and crimson gleams, The lanterns of the fishers, Along the brook of dreams.

I saw the wreaths of incense Like little ghosts arise, From temples under Fuji, From Fuji to the skies.

I saw that fairy mountain....

I watched it form and fade.