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.