"Your God is in your image," we cried, but O, 'Twas only man's own deepest heart ye gave, Knowing that He transcended all ye know, While we--we dug His grave. Denied Him even the crown on our own brow, E'en these poor symbols of His loftier reign, Levelled His Temple with the dust, and now He is risen, He is risen again, Risen, like this resurrection of the year, This grand ascension of the choral spring, Which those harp-crowded heavens bend to hear And meet upon the wing. "He is dead," we cried, and even amid that gloom The wintry veil was rent! The new-born day Showed us the Angel seated in the tomb And the stone rolled away. It is the hour! We challenge heaven above Now, to deny our slight ephemeral breath Joy, anguish, and that everlasting love Which triumphs over death. A JAPANESE LOVE-SONG I The young moon is white, But the willows are blue: Your small lips are red, But the great clouds are grey: The waves are so many That whisper to you; But my love is only One flight of spray. II The bright drops are many, The dark wave is one: The dark wave subsides, And the bright sea remains! And wherever, O singing Maid, you may run, You are one with the world For all your pains. III Though the great skies are dark, And your small feet are white, Though your wide eyes are blue And the closed poppies red, Tho' the kisses are many That colour the night, They are linked like pearls On one golden thread. IV Were the grey clouds not made For the red of your mouth; The ages for flight Of the butterfly years; The sweet of the peach For the pale lips of drouth, The sunlight of smiles For the shadow of tears? V Love, Love is the thread That has pierced them with bliss! All their hues are but notes In one world-wide tune: Lips, willows, and waves, We are one as we kiss, And your face and the flowers Faint away in the moon. THE TWO PAINTERS (A TALE OF OLD JAPAN.) I Yoichi Tenko, the painter, Dwelt by the purple sea, Painting the peacock islands Under his willow-tree: Also in temples he painted Dragons of old Japan, With a child to look at the pictures-- Little O Kimi San. Kimi, the child of his brother, Bright as the moon in May, White as a lotus lily, Pink as a plum-tree spray, Linking her soft arm round him Sang to his heart for an hour, Kissed him with ripples of laughter And lips of the cherry flower.