DAI BUTSU.

He sits. Upon the kingly head doth rest

The round-balled wimple, and the heavy rings

Touch on the shoulders where the shadow clings.

The downward garment shows the ambiguous breast;

The face — that face one scarce can look on lest

One learn the secret of unspeakable things;

But the dread gaze descends with shudderings,

To the veiled couched knees, the hands and thumbs close-pressed.

O lidded, downcast eyes that bear the weight

Of all our woes and terrible wrong's increase:

Proud nostrils, lips proud-perfecter than these,

With what a soul within you do you wait!

Disdain and pity, love late-born of hate,

Passion eternal, patience, pain and peace!