PART I

EMBARKATION

When the firelight, red and clear, Flutters in the black wet pane, It is very good to hear Howling winds and trotting rain: It is very good indeed, When the nights are dark and cold, Near the friendly hearth to read Tales of ghosts and buried gold.

So with cosy toes and hands We were dreaming, just like you; Till we thought of palmy lands Coloured like a cockatoo; All in drowsy nursery nooks Near the clutching fire we sat, Searching quaint old story-books Piled upon the furry mat.

Something haunted us that night Like a half-remembered name; Worn old pages in that light Seemed the same, yet not the same: Curling in the pleasant heat Smoothly as a shell-shaped fan, O! they breathed and smelt so sweet When we turned to Old Japan!

Suddenly we thought we heard Someone tapping on the wall, Tapping, tapping like a bird, Till a panel seemed to fall Quietly; and a tall thin man Stepped into the glimmering room, And he held a little fan, And he waved it in the gloom.

Curious reds, and golds, and greens Danced before our startled eyes, Birds from painted Indian screens, Beads, and shells, and dragon-flies; Wings, and flowers, and scent, and flame, Fans and fish and heliotrope; Till the magic air became Like a dream kaleidoscope.

Then he told us of a land Far across a fairy sea; And he waved his thin white hand Like a flower, melodiously; While a red and blue macaw Perched upon his pointed head, And as in a dream, we saw All the curious things he said.

Tucked in tiny palanquins, Magically swinging there, Flowery-kirtled mandarins Floated through the scented air; Wandering dogs and prowling cats Grinned at fish in painted lakes; Cross-legged conjurers on mats Fluted low to listening snakes.

Fat black bonzes on the shore Watched where singing, faint and far, Boys in long blue garments bore Roses in a golden jar. While at carven dragon ships Floating o’er that silent sea, Squat-limbed gods with dreadful lips Leered and smiled mysteriously.

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.

“In China, well Perhaps you’d smell The cherry bloom: that’s if you ran A million miles And jumped the stiles, And never dreamed of Old Japan.

“What, palanquins, And mandarins? And, what d’you say, a blue divan? And what? Hee! hee! You’ll never see A pig-tailed head in Old Japan.

“You’d take away The ruby, hey? I never heard of such a plan! Upon my word It’s quite absurd There’s not a gem in Old Japan!

“Oh, dear me, no! You’d better go Straight home again, my little man: Ah, well, you’ll see But don’t blame me; I don’t believe in Old Japan.”

Then, before we could obey, O’er our startled heads he cast, Spider-like, a webby grey Net that held us prisoned fast; How we screamed, he only grinned, It was such a lonely place; And he said we should be pinned In his human beetle-case.

Out he dragged a monstrous box From a cave behind the tree! It had four-and-twenty locks, But he could not find the key, And his face grew very pale When a sudden voice began Drawing nearer through the vale, Singing songs of Old Japan.

SONG

_Satin sails in a crimson dawn_ _Over the silky silver sea;_ _Purple veils of the dark withdrawn;_ _Heavens of pearl and porphyry;_ _Purple and white in the morning light_ _Over the water the town we knew,_ _In tiny state, like a willow-plate,_ _Shone, and behind it the hills were blue._

_There, we remembered, the shadows pass_ _All day long like dreams in the night;_ _There, in the meadows of dim blue grass,_ _Crimson daisies are ringed with white;_ _There the roses flutter their petals,_ _Over the meadows they take their flight,_ _There the moth that sleepily settles_ _Turns to a flower in the warm soft light._

_There when the sunset colours the streets_ _Everyone buys at wonderful stalls_ _Toys and chocolates, guns and sweets,_ _Ivory pistols, and Persian shawls:_ _Everyone’s pockets are crammed with gold;_ _Nobody’s heart is worn with care,_ _Nobody ever grows tired and old,_ _And nobody calls you “Baby” there._

_There with a hat like a round white dish_ _Upside down on each pig-tailed head,_ _Jugglers offer you snakes and fish,_ _Dreams and dragons and gingerbread;_ _Beautiful books with marvellous pictures,_ _Painted pirates and streaming gore,_ _And everyone reads, without any strictures,_ _Tales he remembers for evermore._

_There when the dim blue daylight lingers_ _Listening, and the West grows holy,_ _Singers crouch with their long white fingers_ _Floating over the zithern slowly:_ _Paper lamps with a peachy bloom_ _Burn above on the dim blue bough,_ _While the zitherns gild the gloom_ _With curious music! I hear it now!_

_Now_: and at that mighty word Holding out his magic fan, Through the waving flowers appeared, Suddenly, the tall thin man: And we saw the crumpled dwarf Trying to hide behind the tree, But his knotted scarlet scarf Made him very plain to see.

Like a soft and smoky cloud Passed the webby net away; While its owner squealing loud Down behind the pear-tree lay; For the tall thin man came near, And his words were dark and gruff, And he swung the dwarf in the air By his long and scraggy scruff.

There he kickled whimpering. But our rescuer touched the box, Open with a sudden spring Clashed the four-and-twenty locks; Then he crammed the dwarf inside, And the locks all clattered tight: Four-and-twenty times he tried Whether they were fastened right.

Ah, he led us on our road, Showed us Wonder-Wander town; Then he fled: behind him flowed Once again the rose-pink gown: Down the long deserted street, All the windows winked like eyes, And our little trotting feet Echoed to the starry skies.

Low and long for evermore Where the Wonder-Wander sea Whispers to the wistful shore Purple songs of mystery, Down the shadowy quay we came-- Though it hides behind the hill You will find it just the same And the seamen singing still.

There we chose a ship of pearl, And her milky silken sail Seemed by magic to unfurl, Puffed before a fairy gale; Shimmering o’er the purple deep, Out across the silvery bar, Softly as the wings of sleep Sailed we towards the morning star.

Over us the skies were dark, Yet we never needed light; Softly shone our tiny bark Gliding through the solemn night; Softly bright our moony gleam, Glimmered o’er the glistening waves, Like a cold sea-maiden’s dream Globed in twilit ocean caves.

So all night our shallop passed Many a haunt of old desire, Blurs of savage blossom massed Red above a pirate-fire; Huts that gloomed and glanced among Fruitage dipping in the blue; Songs the sirens never sung, Shores Ulysses never knew.

All our fairy rigging shone Richly as a rainbow seen Where the moonlight floats upon Gossamers of gold and green: All the tiny spars were bright; Beaten gold the bowsprit was; But our pilot was the night, And our chart a looking-glass.