And the subtle languor, the prismic glow Of a ripeness overpast Burns through the wonderful curving flow Of thy garments; and they who love thee know A loathing at the last. For they are the lovers of living things-- Stars, sunlight, morning's breath; But thou, for all that thy beauty brings Such songs as the summer scattereth-- Thou art of the House of Death. . . . . . . But there was one in thy golden day Who saw thy poppied bloom, And loved not thee but the heart's decay That filled thee, and clasped it to be alway His chosen and sealèd doom. He who this living portrait wrought, Outlasting time's control, A dark and bitter nectar sought Welling from poisoned streams that roll Through deserts of the soul. Ah, dreamer! come at last where dreams Can serve no more thy need, Who hast by such bright silver streams Walked with thy soul that now earth seems A waste where love must bleed-- Thou whom such matchless beauty filled Of visions frail and lone, For thee all passion now is stilled; Thy heart, denied the life it willed, Desireth rather none. And thee allure no verdant blooms That with fresh joy suspire; But blossoms touched with coming glooms, And weariness, and spent desire, Draw to thy spirit nigher. Wherefore is nothing in thy sight Propitious save it be Brushed with the wings of hovering night, Worn with the shadow of delight, Sad with satiety. For thou hast enmity toward all The servants of life's breath; One mistress holdeth thee in thrall, And them thou lovest who her call Answer; and she is Death. . . . . . . Now Death thy ruined city's streets Walketh, a grisly queen. And there her sacred horror greets Him who invades these waste retreats, Her sacrosanct demesne-- In robes like clouds at sunset rolled About the dying sun, In splendid vestments of purple and gold That a thousand perished years have spun For her, the Imperial One. Utamaro, the central and in some ways the most fascinating figure of this period, has been from the first a great favourite in the esteem of European collectors. His graceful, sinuous women are the images that come most readily to the minds of many people at the mention of Japanese prints. In his own time and land his popularity was equalled by that of no other artist. [Illustration: UTAMARO.]