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!