Of Buddhas; or of Fudo's fire

And rope and lifted sword.

And, ere I left, a surging shade

Of clouds, a distant horde,

Should break and Fugi's cone stand clear—

With sutras overscored.

Sutras of ice and rock and snow,

Written by hands of heat

And thaw upon it, till 'twould seem

Meant for the final seat

Of the lord Buddha and his bliss—

If ever he repeat

[Pg 10]

This life where millions still are bound

Within Illusion's cheat.

II

Or were I in Japan today—

Perchance at Kyoto—

Down Tera-machi I would search

For charm or curio.

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