EVOCATION

Dim thro’ the mist and cryptomeria

Booms the temple bell,

Down from the tomb of Ieyasue

Yearning, as a knell.

Down from the tomb where many an aeon

Silently has knelt;

Many a pilgrimage of millions —

Still about it felt.

Still, for I see them gather ghostly

Now, as the numb sound

Floats, an unearthly necromancy,

From the past's dead ground.

See the invisible vast millions,

Hear their soundless feet

Climbing the shrine-ways to the gilded

Carven temple's seat.

And, one among them — pale among them —

Passes waning by.

What is it tells me mystically

That strange one was I?...

Weird thro’ the mist and cryptomeria

Dies the bell —‘ tis dumb.

After how many lives returning

Shall I hither come?

Hither again! and climb the votive

Ever mossy ways?

Who shall the gods be then, the millions

Meek, entreat or praise?