Classic Poem

Whence flows this stream
In which the iris stems
Amid their sword-like leaves
Rise in pale purple?
From what far hills
Comes the cool water
Here swirling
Into eddies and currents?

" This water comes
From my far homeland —
From the far hills
Where as a child
I walked the crests
And saw the sunrise
That promised glories
To my waiting heart.

" But now my days
Are empty of glories;
And my nights are troubled
With the passion of men.
Life passes by me
Like the passing water
Of the cool stream
Coming from afar.

" Last night there came
Unto my dwelling, —
Open to so many
That all may come, —
A silent painter,
A man of dreaming.
And when he left me
In the cold dawn
I slept, and dreamed
Strangely of the far hills
Misted at sunrise
That I once had known, —
Of my old country,
The land of iris, —
And I awoke
And was at peace. "