THE wood by the side of the railway is burned. It was government wood, belonging to our gracious lord, The Emperor, to Him descended from a line of Gods Who deigned to step from heaven to earth When chaos reigned, to give rulers to this fair land. And it is burned, this wood, utterly destroyed By a spark, men say, from a passing engine. Some fireman was careless, or engine-driver, perhaps. It matters little who. 'Tis I must pay the penalty. The supreme price; for I am manager of the road. And to offer a lesser life were affront to Him Who is sprung from the loins of Gods. To-day I make all things ready and take leave of my bride, She will understand; she is brave and schooled in the old teachings. Then I will bow before the tablets of my ancestors, And to-night I shall sit on the mat alone—with my knife— As my ancestors sat When they had offended the Gods, or the God-descended. My assistant would die in my place. For him the wine of life is drunk; its dregs are bitter. But this must not be; Gods will not be mocked. Rather must I be proud, for I have been given the choice of deaths, And Hari-kiri is a noble death, cleansing from all stain; One that no base-born man may choose. Dying so, my unborn child will revere his father's memory, And my name will be placed beside those of honorable ancestors. So, dying, I drink to Death and to my lord, the Emperor, And to the son I shall not see. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 22 by JAMES JOYCE TOMORROW by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD CAMPUS SONNET: TALK by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST AFTERGLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |