Searching quaint old story-books

Piled upon the furry mat.

[Pg 20]

Something haunted us that night

Like a half-remembered name;

Worn old pages in that light

Seemed the same, yet not the same:

Curling in the pleasant heat

Smoothly as a shell-shaped fan,

O, they breathed and smelt so sweet

When we turned to Old Japan!

Suddenly we thought we heard

Someone tapping on the wall,

Tapping, tapping like a bird.

Then a panel seemed to fall

Quietly; and a tall thin man

Stepped into the glimmering room,

And he held a little fan,

And he waved it in the gloom.

Curious red, and golds, and greens

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