THE FISHER-BOY URASHIMA
'Tis spring, and the mists come stealing
O'er Suminóye's shore,
And I stand by the seaside musing
On the days that are no more.
I muse on the old-world story,
As the boats glide to and fro,
Of the fisher-boy, Urashima,
Who a-fishing loved to go;
How he came not back to the village
Though sev'n suns had risen and set,
But rowed on past the bounds of ocean,
And the sea-god's daughter met;
How they pledged their faith to each other,
And came to the Evergreen Land,
And entered the sea-god's palace
So lovingly hand in hand,
To dwell for aye in that country,
The ocean-maiden and he—
The country where youth and beauty
Abide eternally.
But the foolish boy said, "To-morrow
I'll come back with thee to dwell;
But I have a word to my father,
A word to my mother to tell."
The maiden answered, "A casket
I give into thine hand;
And if that thou hopest truly
To come back to the Evergreen Land,
"Then open it not, I charge thee!
Open it not, I beseech!"
So the boy rowed home o'er the billows
To Suminóye's beach.