Like an idol, shrined alone,
Watched by secret oval eyes,
Where the ruby wishing-stone
Smouldering in the darkness lies,
Anyone that wanted things
Touched the jewel and they came:
We were wealthier than kings
If we could but do the same.
Yes; we knew a hundred ways
We might use it if we could;
To be happy all our days
As an Indian in a wood;
No more daily lesson task,
No more sorrow, no more care;
So we thought that we would ask
If he’d kindly lead us there.
Ah! but then he waved his fan,
And he vanished through the wall;
Yet as in a dream, we ran
Tumbling after, one and all;
Never pausing once to think,
Panting after him we sped;
For we saw his robe of pink
Floating backward as he fled.
Down a secret passage deep,
Under roofs of spidery stairs,
Where the bat-winged nightmares creep,
And a sheeted phantom glares
Rushed we; ah! how strange it was
Where no human watcher stood;
Till we reached a gate of glass
Opening on a flowery wood.
Where the rose-pink robe had flown,
Borne by swifter feet than ours,
On to Wonder-Wander town,
Through the wood of monstrous flowers;
Mailed in monstrous gold and blue
Dragon-flies like peacocks fled;
Butterflies like carpets, too,
Softly fluttered overhead.
Down the valley, tip-a-toe,
Where the broad-limbed giants lie
Snoring, as when long ago
Jack on a bean-stalk scaled the sky;
Slowly, softly towards the town
Stole we past old dreams again,
Castles long since battered down,
Dungeons of forgotten pain.
Noonday brooded on the wood,
Evening caught us ere we crept
Where a twisted pear-tree stood,
And a dwarf behind it slept;
Round his scraggy throat he wore,
Knotted tight, a scarlet scarf;
Timidly we watched him snore,
For he seemed a surly dwarf.
Yet, he looked so very small,
He could hardly hurt us much;
We were nearly twice as tall,
So we woke him with a touch
Gently, and in tones polite,
Asked him to direct our path;
O! his wrinkled eyes grew bright
Green with ugly gnomish wrath.
He seemed to choke,
And gruffly spoke,
“You’re lost: deny it, if you can!
You want to know
The way to go?
There’s no such place as Old Japan.
“You want to seek—
No, no, don’t speak!
You mean you want to steal a fan.
You want to see
The fields of tea?
They don’t grow tea in Old Japan.