Spread thick above, ye clouds, your dusky veil,
Hide from yon stars the Savior's bitter woe;
Breathe, ye night winds, in murmurs sad and low,
Or lift, in fitful gusts, your mournful wail:
Listen, thou Olivet! and Kedron's vale
Catch the sad accents that are borne to thee
From yonder shade — thine own Gethsemane —
As when one pleadeth, and doth not prevail.
See, to the earth the holy sufferer sinks;
Weighs on his heart an anguish all unknown;
Bursts from his lips the thrice repeated prayer,
Yet firm his will the utmost pang to bear;

Longing for the plum blossoms
I pray to the white deutzia —

A little while—He said—and hence I go;
And ye shall seek me, but ye shall not find;
Ye may not follow now; but left behind,
My witnesses, the world by you shall know
The truth, that truth strike root and grow;
A holy kingdom rise and wide extend;
Till e'en earth's proudest shall submissive bend,
And unto me all tribes and nations flow!
Behold! a new command to you I give;
Love one another; all who will be mine,
Let love in one blest fellowship combine,
That each for all, and all for each may live.

Substance Speaks to Shadow

Heaven and Earth
endure and do not perish;
Mountains and rivers
do not change with time.
Grasses and trees partake
in this constant principle,
Although the frost and dew
cause them to wilt or flourish
Of all things Man, they say,
is most intelligent and wise,
And yet he alone
is not like them in this
Appearing by chance

Southern Kyoto —
on top of the piled snow
the evening rain.

" Here lieth love. " Deep lettered on a stone
Are these few words, but never name and date
To say what heart would so commemorate
A dear dead love, or by what hand were strewn
The withered roses. Hither, thither blown,
A willow's branches quiver with a freight
Of melody that seems articulate;
But men who listen merely catch a moan —
" Here lieth love. "

Mine are the roses and the dead love there.
But silence! breathe no names; it were not meet
That she should know love perished from despair

Mount Tiantai is the sacred flower of all mountain ranges. Cross the sea and you will find Fangzhang and Penglai; turn inland and you will come to Siming and Tiantai, all of them places where the sages of the occult wander and perform their transformations, where the holy immortals have their caves and dwellings. The endlessly soaring shapes of these ranges, their miraculous beauty exhaust the wealth and wonder of mountain and sea, embrace all that is brave and admirable among gods and men.

In the white future, in the coming years,
We will forget our sorrow and our woe:
We will forget these death-extorted tears.
Above yon open grave the turf will grow,
And flowers hide the failures and the fears
Of long ago.

In the white future, in the unborn days,
Warm winds will steal the clouds that hide the sun.
Over the ruins roughening our ways,
Lichen in green luxuriance will run,
And memory will only sing the praise
Of battles won.

In the dim future, when the spray is blown
From the near Jordan in our hair and eyes,

God's hand had made her face surpassing fair:
In love had lingered over every line.
Its purity made Passion kneel in prayer;
The starry eyes beneath the midnight hair
Shone with a glory that was half divine.

Men, gazing, fancied that an aureole
Circled the whiteness of her perfect brow;
And a new discontent was in their soul,
For something holy from her presence stole,
Drawing them nearer God, they knew not how.

How far thro' space and time the soul may go!
I had a dream as of a serpent's tongue
That darted venomously to and fro.
I had a vision of the sword of flame
That guarded Eden when the world was young,
And shed a lurid light on Adam's shame.

I saw it animate with God's great Will,
No hand was on the hilt to make it flash;
Yet evermore its shriek, more piercing shrill
Than a cicala's chirrup, clove the air;
And all day long I saw it poise and dash,
A giant meteor with golden hair.

Firstly, I watched the morning-planet fade.