From those huts there shall be smoke!"
Thus the Emperor Nintok spoke.
Three years sped. Upon his roof
That Monarch paced again. Aloof
His Empress hung, ill-pleased to see
The snows drip through her gallery,
The gates agape for cracks, and gray
With wear and weather. "Consort! say
If thus the Emperor of Japan
Should lodge, like some vile peasant man
Whose thatch leaks for a load of straw?"
"Princess august! what recks a flaw,"
Nintok replied, "in gate or wall
When, far and wide, those chimneys all
Fling their blue house-flags to the sky
Where the Gods count them? Thou and I
Have part in all the poor folks' health:
A people's weal makes a King's wealth!"
