While Yuki San, a-tiptoe, reaches down
A many-tinctured, fairy-patterned robe—
All gold and scarlet and celestial white—
Of feathers wove, but feathers of such birds
As surely never perched on earthly tree!
The lining shot with airy tender tints
As of a broken rainbow. Glad he scans
The strange bright treasure-trove. Another such
Suruga never saw!—Narumi's looms
Never dreamed such a marvel! Light of heart
Into his hut dances Hakuriyô.
Casting the nets aside to clasp the robe.
Next,—very softly trill the samisens,
The drums beat muted, and the flute pipes forth
Expectant tones, while—light as falling snow
Or breath of morning breeze, whispering its way
Through the awakening maple-leaves—glides in
A Heavenly Fairy! 'Tis O Tsuru San:
And neck, breast, slender little amber limbs
Are bare as the brown sea-sand: just one cloth
Tied with a sky-blue string about the waist
