Of its god, or any grace

That in living or in dying

Men in text or sutra sigh for.

And not for any shrift

Nirvana has, or skies

Where Paradise imperishably smiles.

[Pg 63]

But only for the sift

Of the wind, that seems to die for

My soul's enduring peace

In the dwelling of the Tomb.

And only for the drift

Of the moon that comes denying

Eternity to everything but Doom.

[Pg 64]

[Pg 64]

IN A SHINTO TEMPLE GARDEN

Under the torii, robed in green,

The old priest creeps to the shrine.

Over the bridge the still stork stands,

 Prev. P 54/86 next