Nirvana Days Part 2

And the low reluctant tide, That rushes back to ebb a last farewell To the flotsam borne so long upon its breast.

Rocks.... But the tide is out, And the slime lies naked, like a thing ashamed That has no hiding-place.

And the sea-bird hushes-- The bird and all far cries within my blood-- And earth as a somnambulist moves on.

SERENATA MAGICA

(_Venetian_)

My gondola is a black sea-swan, And glides beneath the moon.

Dark palaces beside me pa.s.s, Like visions in a beryl-gla.s.s Of what shall never be, alas, Or what has been too soon.

Like what shall never be, but in The breathing of a swoon.

My gondola is a black sea-swan, And makes her mystic way From door to phantom water-door, While carven balconies hang o'er And cas.e.m.e.nts framed for love say more Than love can ever say.

Say more than any voice but voice Of silent magic may.

My gondola is a black sea-swan-- Rialto lies behind.

And by me the Salute swings, A loveliness that must take wings And vanish, as imaginings Within an Afrit's mind; As vague and vast imaginings That can no substance find.

My gondola is a black sea-swan: San Marco and the shaft Of the slim Campanile steal Into my trance and leave a seal Upon my senses, like the feel Of long enchantment quaffed: Of long enchantments such as songs Of sage Al Raschid waft.

My gondola is a black sea-swan And gains to the lagoon, Where samphire and sea-lavender Around me float or softly stir, While far-off Venice still lifts her Fair witchery to the moon And all that wonder e'er gave birth Seems out of beauty hewn.

O-s.h.i.+CHI AND MOTO

I

O-s.h.i.+chi, all my heart today Is dreaming of your fate; And of your little house that stood Beside the temple gate; Of its plum-garden hid away Behind white paper doors; And of the young boy-priest who read too late with you love-lores.

II

O-s.h.i.+chi dwelt in Yedo--where A thousand wonders dwell.

G.o.ds, golden palaces and shrines That like a charm enspell.

O-s.h.i.+chi dwelt among them there, More wondrous, she, than all-- A flower some forgetful G.o.d had from his hand let fall.

III

And all her days were as the dream On flowers in the sun.

And all her ways were as the waves That by s.h.i.+n-bas.h.i.+ run.

And in her gaze there was the gleam Of stars that cannot wait Too long for love and so fare forth from heaven to find a mate.

IV

O-s.h.i.+chi dwelt so, till one night When all the city slept, When not a paper lantern swung, When only fire-flies swept Soft cipherings of spirit-light Across the temple's gloom-- Sudden a cry was heard--the cry that should O-s.h.i.+chi doom.

V

For following the cry came flame, A Chaya's roof a-blaze.

And quickly was the street a stream Of stricken folk, whose gaze Knew well that when the morning came Their homes would be but smoke Vanished upon the winds: now had O-s.h.i.+chi's fate awoke.

VI

And waited. For at morning priests In pity of her years And desolation led her back Behind the great G.o.d's spheres; The great G.o.d Buddha, who of beasts And men all mindful was.

O Buddha, in thy very courts O-s.h.i.+chi learned love's laws!

VII

Love of the body and the soul, Not of Nirvana's state!

Love that beyond itself can see No beauty wise or great.

O-s.h.i.+chi for a moon--a whole Moon happy there beheld The young boy-priest whose yearning e'er into his eyes upwelled.

VIII

So all too soon for her was found Elsewhere a kindly thatch.

And all too soon O-s.h.i.+chi heard Behind her close love's latch.

They led her from the temple's ground Into untrysting days.

And all too soon that happy moon was hid in sorrow's haze.

IX

For now at dawn she rose to dress With blooms some honored vase, Or to embroider or brew tea's Sweet ceremonial grace.

Or she at dusk, in sick distress, Before the butsudan, Must to ancestral tablets pray--not to her Moto-San!

X

Not unto him, her love, who sways Her breast, as moon the tide, Whose breath is incense--Ah, again To see him softly glide Before the grave G.o.d-idol's gaze Of inward ecstasy, To watch the great bell boom for him its mystic sutra-plea.

XI

But weeks grew into weariness, And weariness to pain, And pain to lonely wildness, which Set fire unto her brain.

And, "I will see my love!" distress Made fair O-s.h.i.+chi cry, "Tho for ten lives away from him I then must live and die."