Collected Poems Volume I Part 3

OURSELVES THE TALL THIN MAN THE DWARF BEHIND THE TWISTED PEAR-TREE CREEPING SIN THE MAD MOONSHEE THE NAMELESS ONE

Pirates, Mandarins, Bonzes, Priests, Jugglers, Merchants, Ghastroi, Weirdrians, etc.

PRELUDE

You that have known the wonder zone Of islands far away; You that have heard the d.i.n.ky bird And roamed in rich Cathay; You that have sailed o'er unknown seas To woods of Amfalula trees Where craggy dragons play: Oh, girl or woman, boy or man, You've plucked the Flower of Old j.a.pan!

Do you remember the blue stream; The bridge of pale bamboo; The path that seemed a twisted dream Where everything came true; The purple cherry-trees; the house With jutting eaves below the boughs; The mandarins in blue, With tiny, tapping, tilted toes, And curious curved mustachios?

_The road to Old j.a.pan!_ you cry, _And is it far or near?_ Some never find it till they die; Some find it everywhere; The road where restful Time forgets His weary thoughts and wild regrets And calls the golden year Back in a fairy dream to smile On young and old a little while.

Some seek it with a blazing sword, And some with old blue plates; Some with a miser's golden h.o.a.rd; Some with a book of dates; Some with a box of paints; a few Whose loads of truth would ne'er pa.s.s through The first, white, fairy gates; And, oh, how shocked they are to find That truths are false when left behind!

Do you remember all the tales That Tusitala told, When first we plunged thro' purple vales In quest of buried gold?

Do you remember how he said That if we fell and hurt our head Our hearts must still be bold, And we must never mind the pain But rise up and go on again?

Do you remember? Yes; I know You must remember still: He left us, not so long ago, Carolling with a will, Because he knew that he should lie Under the comfortable sky Upon a lonely hill, In Old j.a.pan, when day was done; "Dear Robert Louis Stevenson."

And there he knew that he should find The hills that haunt us now; The whaups that cried upon the wind His heart remembered how; And friends he loved and left, to roam Far from the pleasant hearth of home, Should touch his dreaming brow; Where fishes fly and birds have fins, And children teach the mandarins.

Ah, let us follow, follow far Beyond the purple seas; Beyond the rosy foaming bar, The coral reef, the trees, The land of parrots, and the wild That rolls before the fearless child Its ancient mysteries: Onward and onward, if we can, To Old j.a.pan--to Old j.a.pan.

PART I

EMBARKATION

When the firelight, red and clear, Flutters in the black wet pane, It is very good to hear Howling winds and trotting rain: It is very good indeed, When the nights are dark and cold, Near the friendly hearth to read Tales of ghosts and buried gold.

So with cozy toes and hands We were dreaming, just like you; Till we thought of palmy lands Coloured like a c.o.c.katoo; All in drowsy nursery nooks Near the clutching fire we sat, Searching quaint old story-books Piled upon the furry mat.

Something haunted us that night Like a half-remembered name; Worn old pages in that light Seemed the same, yet not the same: Curling in the pleasant heat Smoothly as a sh.e.l.l-shaped fan, O, they breathed and smelt so sweet When we turned to Old j.a.pan!

Suddenly we thought we heard Someone tapping on the wall, Tapping, tapping like a bird.

Then a panel seemed to fall Quietly; and a tall thin man Stepped into the glimmering room, And he held a little fan, And he waved it in the gloom.

Curious red, and golds, and greens Danced before our startled eyes, Birds from painted Indian screens, Beads, and sh.e.l.ls, and dragon-flies; Wings, and flowers, and scent, and flame, Fans and fish and heliotrope; Till the magic air became Like a dream kaleidoscope.

Then he told us of a land Far across a fairy sea; And he waved his thin white hand Like a flower, melodiously; While a red and blue macaw Perched upon his pointed head, And as in a dream, we saw All the curious things he said.

Tucked in tiny palanquins, Magically swinging there, Flowery-kirtled mandarins Floated through the scented air; Wandering dogs and prowling cats Grinned at fish in painted lakes; Cross-legged conjurers on mats Fluted low to listening snakes.

Fat black bonzes on the sh.o.r.e Watched where singing, faint and far, Boys in long blue garments bore Roses in a golden jar.

While at carven dragon s.h.i.+ps Floating o'er that silent sea, Squat-limbed G.o.ds with dreadful lips Leered and smiled mysteriously.

Like an idol, shrined alone, Watched by secret oval eyes, Where the ruby wis.h.i.+ng-stone Smouldering in the darkness lies, Anyone that wanted things Touched the jewel and they came; We were wealthier than kings Could we only do the same.

Yes; we knew a hundred ways We might use it if we could; To be happy all our days As an Indian in a wood; No more daily lesson task, No more sorrow, no more care; So we thought that we would ask If he'd kindly lead us there.

Ah, but then he waved his fan, Laughed and vanished through the wall; Yet as in a dream, we ran Tumbling after, one and all; Never pausing once to think, Panting after him we sped; Far away his robe of pink Floated backward as he fled.

Down a secret pa.s.sage deep, Under roofs of spidery stairs, Where the bat-winged nightmares creep, And a sheeted phantom glares Rushed we; ah, how strange it was Where no human watcher stood; Till we reached a gate of gla.s.s Opening on a flowery wood.

Where the rose-pink robe had flown, Borne by swifter feet than ours, On to Wonder-Wander town, Through the wood of monstrous flowers; Mailed in monstrous gold and blue Dragon-flies like peac.o.c.ks fled; b.u.t.terflies like carpets, too, Softly fluttered overhead.

Down the valley, tip-a-toe, Where the broad-limbed giants lie Snoring, as when long ago Jack on a bean-stalk scaled the sky; On to Wonder-Wander town Stole we past old dreams again, Castles long since battered down, Dungeons of forgotten pain.

Noonday brooded on the wood, Evening caught us ere we crept Where a twisted pear-tree stood, And a dwarf behind it slept; Round his scraggy throat he wore, Knotted tight, a scarlet scarf; Timidly we watched him snore, For he seemed a surly dwarf.

Yet, he looked so very small, He could hardly hurt us much; We were nearly twice as tall, So we woke him with a touch Gently, and in tones polite, Asked him to direct our path; O, his wrinkled eyes grew bright Green with ugly gnomish wrath.

He seemed to choke, And gruffly spoke, "You're lost: deny it, if you can!

You want to know The way to go?

There's no such place as Old j.a.pan.

"You want to seek-- No, no, don't speak!

You mean you want to steal a fan.

You want to see The fields of tea?

They don't grow tea in Old j.a.pan.

"In China, well Perhaps you'd smell The cherry bloom: that's if you ran A million miles And jumped the stiles, And never dreamed of Old j.a.pan.

"What, palanquins, And mandarins?

And, what d'you say, a blue divan?

And what? Hee! hee!

You'll never see A pig-tailed head in Old j.a.pan.

"You'd take away The ruby, hey?

I never heard of such a plan!

Upon my word It's quite absurd There's not a gem in Old j.a.pan!

"Oh, dear me, no!

You'd better go Straight home again, my little man: Ah, well, you'll see But don't blame me; I don't believe in Old j.a.pan."

Then, before we could obey, O'er our startled heads he cast, Spider-like, a webby grey Net that held us prisoned fast; How we screamed, he only grinned, It was such a lonely place; And he said we should be pinned Safely in his beetle-case.

Out he dragged a monstrous box From a cave behind the tree!

It had four-and-twenty locks, But he could not find the key, And his face grew very pale When a sudden voice began Drawing nearer through the vale, Singing songs of Old j.a.pan,

SONG

_Satin sails in a crimson dawn Over the silky silver sea; Purple veils of the dark withdrawn; Heavens of pearl and porphyry; Purple and white in the morning light Over the water the town we knew, In tiny state, like a willow-plate, Shone, and behind it the hills were blue._

_There, we remembered, the shadows pa.s.s All day long like dreams in the night; There, in the meadows of dim blue gra.s.s, Crimson daisies are ringed with white.

There the roses flutter their petals, Over the meadows they take their flight, There the moth that sleepily settles Turns to a flower in the warm soft light._

_There when the sunset colours the streets Everyone buys at wonderful stalls Toys and chocolates, guns and sweets, Ivory pistols, and Persian shawls: Everyone's pockets are crammed with gold; n.o.body's heart is worn with care, n.o.body ever grows tired and old, And n.o.body calls you "Baby" there._