Nirvana Days. Rice Cale Young
lover-priest, who, spent
With speechless passion for her face, in vain strove to repent.
But ah! what destiny can do
Is not for folly's hand.
The flames O-Shichi kindled were
From sea to Shiba fanned.
And it was learned a love-sick girl
Had charred a thousand homes.
Then were the fury-smitten folk like to a sea that foams.
And so they seized her: but not in
The temple – O not there
Had she been led again by priests
In pity – led to share
Her lover's eyes; no, but her sin
Brought not one dear delight
To poor O-Shichi – who was now to look on her last rite.
For to the stake they bound her – fire
They lit – to be her fate…
O-Shichi, have I dreamt it all?
Your face, the temple gate,
The fair boy-priest shut from desire
In Buddhahood to-be?
Then let me dream and ever dream, O flower by Yedo's sea.
AS OF OLD
The fishermen bade their wives farewell,
(The sun floated merry up the morning)
They sang, to the rhythm of the low-swung swell,
"O come, lads, scorning
The highlands high,
There's no warning
In the blue south sky,
There's no warning,
O come, lads, free,
We'll cross the harbor bar and put to sea!"
The fisherwives prayed, the sails blew fast,
(O home it is happy where there's hoping)
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