As the mirage, to Amida,

Of this world's transient tale,

[Pg 17]

Where he sits clothed in boundless light

And sees it vainly ail.

Up to the great sea-torii,

Its temple-gate, I'd wind,

There furl my sail beneath its beam;

And soon my soul should find

What it shall never, tho it sift

The world elsewhere, and blind

Itself at last with sight of all

Earth's blisses to mankind.

"Migajima! Migajima!"

How would enchantment chant

The syllables within me, till

Desire should cease and pant

Of passion press no more my will—

But let charmed peace supplant

All thought of birth and death and birth—

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