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II
Amid the branches of the silv'ry bowers The nightingale doth sing: perchance he knows That spring hath come, and takes the later snows For the white petals of the plum's sweet flowers.[151]
_Sosei._
III
Too lightly woven must the garments be-- Garments of mist--that clothe the coming spring:-- In wild disorder see them fluttering Soon as the zephyr breathes adown the lea.
_Yukihara._
IV
Heedless that now the mists of spring do rise, Why fly the wild geese northward?--Can it be Their native home is fairer to their eyes, Though no sweet flowers blossom on its lea?
_Ise_.
V
If earth but ceased to offer to my sight The beauteous cherry-trees when blossoming, Ah! then indeed, with peaceful, pure delight, My heart might revel in the joys of spring!
_Narihira._
VI
Tell me, doth any know the dark recess Where dwell the winds that scatter the spring flow'rs?
Hide it not from me! By the heav'nly pow'rs, I'll search them out to upbraid their wickedness!
_Sosei._
VII
No man so callous but he heaves a sigh When o'er his head the withered cherry-flowers Come flutt'ring down.--Who knows? the spring's soft show'rs May be but tears shed by the sorrowing sky.
_Kuronus.h.i.+._
VIII
Whom would your cries, with artful calumny, Accuse of scatt'ring the pale cherry-flow'rs?
'Tis your own pinions flitting through these bow'rs That raise the gust which makes them fall and die!
_Sosei._
IX
In blossoms the wistaria-tree to-day Breaks forth, that sweep the wavelets of my lake:-- When will the mountain cuckoo come and make The garden vocal with his first sweet lay?
_Attributed to Hitomaro._
X
Oh, lotus leaf! I dreamt that the wide earth Held nought more pure than thee--held nought more true:-- Why, then, when on thee rolls a drop of dew, Pretend that 'tis a gem of priceless worth?[152]
_Henzeu._
XI
Can I be dreaming? 'Twas but yesterday We planted out each tender shoot again;[153]
And now the autumn breeze sighs o'er the plain, Where fields of yellow rice confess its sway.
_Anon._
XII
A thousand thoughts of tender, vague regret, Crowd on my soul, what time I stand and gaze On the soft-s.h.i.+ning autumn moon; and yet Not to me only speaks her silv'ry haze.
_Chisato._
XIII
What bark impelled by autumn's fresh'ning gale Comes speeding t'ward me?--'Tis the wild geese arriv'n Across the fathomless expanse of Heav'n, And lifting up their voices for a sail!
_Anon._
XIV
_Autumn_
The silv'ry dewdrops that in autumn light Upon the moors, must surely jewels be; For there they hang all over hill and lea, Strung on the threads the spiders weave so tight.
_Asayasu._
XV
_Autumn_
