While ruder tribes take all?

Must Arthur stand with Asian Celts,

A ghost with spear and crown,

Behind the great Pendragon flag

And be again cut down?

"Tho Europe's self shall move against

High Jimmu Tenno's throne

The Forty-seven Ronin Men

Will not be found alone.

For Percival and Bedivere

And Nogi side by side

Will stand, -- with mourning Merlin there,

Tho all go down in pride.

"But has the world the envious dream --

Ah, such things cannot be, --

To tear their fairy-land like silk

And toss it in the sea?

Must venom rob the future day

The ultimate world-man

Of rare Bushido, code of codes,

The fair heart of Japan?

"Go, be the guest of Avalon.

Believe me, it lies there

Behind the mighty gray sea-wall

Where heathen bend in prayer:

Where peasants lift adoring eyes

To Fuji's crown of snow.

King Arthur's knights will be your hosts,

So cleanse your heart, and go.

"And you will find but gardens sweet

Prepared beyond the seas,

And you will find but gentlefolk

Beneath the cherry-trees.

So walk you worthy of your Christ

Tho church bells do not sound,

And weave the bands of brotherhood

On Jimmu Tenno's ground."

I Heard Immanuel Singing

(The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart

in Heaven.)

This poem is intended to be half said, half sung, very softly,

to the well-known tune: --

"Last night I lay a-sleeping,

There came a dream so fair,

I stood in Old Jerusalem

Beside the temple there, --" etc.

Yet this tune is not to be fitted on, arbitrarily. It is here given

to suggest the manner of handling rather than determine it.

# To be sung. #

I heard Immanuel singing

Within his own good lands,

I saw him bend above his harp.

I watched his wandering hands

Lost amid the harp-strings;

Sweet, sweet I heard him play.

His wounds were altogether healed.

Old things had passed away.

All things were new, but music.

The blood of David ran

Within the Son of David,

Our God, the Son of Man.

He was ruddy like a shepherd.

His bold young face, how fair.

Apollo of the silver bow

Had not such flowing hair.

# To be read very softly, but in spirited response. #

I saw Immanuel singing

On a tree-girdled hill.

The glad remembering branches

Dimly echoed still

The grand new song proclaiming

The Lamb that had been slain.

New-built, the Holy City

Gleamed in the murmuring plain.

The crowning hours were over.

The pageants all were past.

Within the many mansions

The hosts, grown still at last,

In homes of holy mystery

Slept long by crooning springs

Or waked to peaceful glory,

A universe of Kings.

# To be sung. #

He left his people happy.

He wandered free to sigh

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