1 Here rest, in mausoleums grand, Seven of the Tokugawa blood; Here once Zojoji's temple stood, Founded by Iyeyasu's hand. Here, sheltered from great Yedo's din, Serener beats the pulse of life; Beyond these august groves is strife; Peace and Religion reign within. I stroll and gaze: through lacquered gate, Past gorgeous shrine I make my way; Thrice beautiful, this April day, Are these tomb-temples of the great. On tent-shaped roofs the sunlight falls; The sweet air fills each spacious court; Proud Shiba, Heaven and Earth consort To gild thy mortuary walls! 2 What spectacle is this? What fair To which the men and maidens throng? Where wrestler's shout, and geisha's song Re-echo through the jocund air: Where musumes, in coquetry wise, Set sake forth, or fragrant tea, And praise our feats of archery, As from each bow the arrow flies: Where wondrous wax-works meet the eye, And booths attract on every side; And, lo, a temple's portal wide Invites to prayer the passers-by: What spectacle is this? Divine, O traveler, if thou canst, the scene? Pilgrims are these upon the green: This is Asakusa's famous shrine! 3 Uyeno, when, through thy royal park, On April days the people stray, To view the cherry-blossoms gay Which spring's arrival ever mark, What picnic of my native land Can with thy festival compare? So glad the admiring groups, so fair The cherry-flowers, the pines so grand. For ever, in these Orient isles, Pleasure, immortal goddess, reigns; Nor prince nor peasant she disdains, Alike on young and old she smiles. O thou who, harassed on all hands, Wouldst seek the earthly paradise, To Nippon hie; with thine own eyes Behold the happiest of earth's lands! 4 But ere I leave thy classic plain, Fair Yedo, let my simple verse Gompachi's story sad rehearse -- Komurasaki's love and pain. A samurai brave was he at first, And she a maiden fair and good; To buy her stricken parents food She sold herself. O fate the worst! He played the robber's cruel part For gold wherewith his love to save; He fell; and o'er Gompachi's grave She plunged the dagger to her heart. Like Abelard and Heloise, Lovers unfortunate were they. Now in Meguro rests their clay, Beneath the waving bamboo-trees. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARAGRAPHS: 15 by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER WAITER IN A CALIFORNIA VIETNAMESE RESTURANT by CLARENCE MAJOR TO A FRIEND IN THE MAKING by MARIANNE MOORE MERLIN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |