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THE POET
Out of the deep and the dark,
A sparkling mystery, a shape,
Something perfect,
Comes like the stir of the day;
One whose breath is an odour,
Whose eyes show the road to stars,
The breeze on his face,
The glory of Heaven on his back.
He steps like a vision hung in air
Diffusing the passion of eternity;
His abode is the sunlight of morn,
The music of eve his speech;
In his sight
One shall turn from the dust of the grave
And move upward to the woodland.
Yone Noguchi.
7
