IV

Or were I in Japan today,

From Ujina I'd sail

For mountain-isled Migajima

Upon the distance, frail

As the mirage, to Amida,

Of this world's transient tale,

Where he sits clothed in boundless light

And sees it vainly ail.

Up to the great sea-torii,

Its temple-gate, I'd wind,

There furl my sail beneath its beam;

And soon my soul should find

What it shall never, tho it sift

The world elsewhere, and blind

Itself at last with sight of all

Earth's blisses to mankind.

“Migajima! Migajima!”

How would enchantment chant

The syllables within me, till

Desire should cease and pant

Of passion press no more my will —

But let charmed peace supplant

All thought of birth and death and birth —

Yea, karma turn askant.

For on Migajima none may

Give birth and none may die —

Since birth and death are equal sins

Unto the wise. So I

Should muse all day where the sea spills

Its murmur softly by

The still stone lanterns all arow

Under the deathless sky.

And under cryptomeria-tree

And camphor-tree and pine,

And tall pagoda, rising roof

On roof into the shine

Of the pure air — red roof on roof,

With memories in each line

Of far Confucian China where

They first were held divine.

And o'er Migajima the moon

Should rise for me again.

So magical its glow, I dare

Think of it only when

My heart is strong to shun the snare

Of witcheries that men

May lose their souls in evermore,

Nor, after, care nor ken.