Classic Poem

At Easter, with the daffodils
And lilies white from God,
And the rich bursting rose that fills
The soul's dim choir with laud,
For me are subtler scents abroad
At Easter, with the daffodils.

From peaceful gardens of Nippon
Mayhap 't was Koriusai
These silken-bannered blossoms won
To tints that shall not die—
Or Harunabu's loving eye
In antique gardens of Nippon.

Or some unpraised and nameless hand
Whose art all careless gave,
Nor asked of earth's too-fluctuant band
His name with words to save;
For love, which knows nor fame nor grave,
Wrought that unpraised and nameless hand.

In green of dawn, and blue of lake,
And forest-sunset red,
The chary colours calmly take
Each leaf and blossom-head.
What skill had he, the long, long dead,
In twilight green and blue of lake!

These are the pæonies that blow
Where pathside Buddha waits,
And little wavering rivers go
Past iris-hindered gates;
Where silent wisdom meditates
These are the pæonies shall blow.

Be mine that spirit of repose
Whom no earth-moment grieves,
But who with just complaisance knows
The worth of what he leaves,
And this, his only wage, receives—
Enough—the spirit of repose!