sea enters to his shrine
Daily, with tidal mystery
And majesty divine.
He enters now, as the nuptial sea
Of love first entered our hearts, to be
Lord of their tides eternally,
And Master!

OLD AGE

I have heard the wild geese,
I have seen the leaves fall,
There was frost last night
On the garden wall.
It is gone to-day
And I hear the wind call.
The wind?... that is all.

If the swallow will light
When evening is near;
If the crane will not scream
Like a soul in fear;
I will think no more
Of the dying year,
And the wind, its seer.

ON THE YANG-TSE-KIANG

Down the Yang-tse bat-wing junk
And tatterdemalion sampan glide,
Sails of brown and black and yellow swinging.
Down the Yang-tse bat-wing junks
Fish-eyed and gaudy take the tide,
Forth to the sea in sloth they ride,
The coolies singing.

Off in the field the peasant toils
And along the canal the low tows slip,
Fruit of the red persimmon piled upon them.
Off in the field the peasant toils--
With lip and brow the dull years strip
Bare of the dreams of life, whose grip
Has grimly drawn them.

High on the hill the yamen rests
And the temple beside it sleeps in sun,
Far in the distance faints the city dreary.
High on the hill the yamen rests,
And dun dead shadows o'er it run:
This is the land where Time begun
And now grows weary.

THE SEA-ARMIES

The wild sea-armies led by the wind
Are following in our wake,
White-crested shouting millions moving on.
They have broken their camp of Calm and o'er
The world rebellion make,
With banner of cloud and mist above them drawn.

They have heard the call of infinite Death,
The ordering of his word,
"Arise, go forth and conquer where ye can;
For that is the only law ye know,
Its mandate men have heard,
Let them beware when they your path would span.

"Let them beware, for I am lord
Of all that on earth has name,
And unto you is given most my might.
Ride on, ye have many a ship to rend,
And many a mast to maim,
And many a land to lash and soul to fright."

So on they ride, a ravaging horde,
From shore to shuddering shore,
Beyond us in the bleak star-buried dawn;
Nor know that when they have camped again
And sleep, Life will restore
Unto her world the hope they have withdrawn.

THE CHRISTIAN IN EXILE

(_Mandalay_)

The palms along the old fort