I KIYONOBU SPEAKS

The actor on his little stage

Struts with a mimic rage.—

Across my page

My passion in his form shall tower from age to age.

What he so crudely dreams

In vague and fitful gleams,

The crowd esteems.—

Well! let the future judge, if his or mine this seems—

This calm Titanic mould

Stalking in colours bold

Fold upon fold—

This lord of dark, this dream I dreamed of old!

Garbed in flowing folds of light,

Azure, emerald, rose, and white,

Watchest thou across the night.

Crowned with splendor is thine head:

All the princes great and dead

Round thy limbs their state have shed—

Calm, immutable to stand—

Gracious head and poisèd hand—

O’er the years that flow like sand.