III

Or were I in Japan today,

Hiroshima should call

My heart — Hiroshima built round

Her ancient castle wall.

By the low flowering moat where sun

And silence ever fall

Into a swoon, I'd build again

Old days of Daimyo thrall.

Of charge and bloody countercharge,

When many a samurai

Fierce-panoplied fell at its pale,

Suppressing groan or cry;

Suppressing all but silent hates

That swept from eye to eye,

While lips smiled decorously on,

Or mocked urbane goodbye.

Then to the river I would pass

And drift upon its tide

By many a tea-house hung in bloom

Above its mirrored side.

And geisha fluttering gay before

Their guests should pause in pied

Kimono, then with laughter bright

Behind the shoji hide.

Unto an isle of Ugina's

Low port my craft should swing,

Or scarce an island seems it now

To my fair fancying,

But a shrined jut of earth up thro

The sea from which to sing

Unto the evening star of all

Night's incarnations bring.

Then backward thro the darkened streets

I'd walk: long lanterns writ

With ghostly characters should dance

Beside each door, or flit,

Thin paper spirits, to and fro

And mow the wind, when it

Demanded of them reverence

And passed with twirl or twit.

What music, too, of samisen

And koto I should hear!

Tinkle on weirder tinkle thro

The strangely wistful ear

What shadows on the shoji-door

Of my dim soul should veer

All night in sleep, and haunt the light

Of many a coming year!