That lave night’s shore;
or this vision of—
The cloud-like curve,
The loosened sheaf,
The ineffable pink of a lotos leaf.
One great charm of the imagery in Mrs. Fenollosa’s Japanese poems is its subtlety of suggestion. The imagination has play; something is left for the fancy of the reader, which can scarcely be said of some of the highly
wrought verse of our own country. The first lyric in the collection hints of a score of things beyond its eight-line scope:
O let me die a singing!
O let me drown in light!
Another day is winging