The year has come, the year has gone again, And still no tidings of mine absent love! Through the long days of spring all heaven above And earth beneath, re-echo with my pain. In dark cocoon my mother's silk-worms dwell; Like them, a captive, through the livelong day Alone I sit and sigh my soul away, For ne'er to any I my love may tell. Like to the pine-trees I must stand and pine,[141] While downward slanting fall the shades of night, Till my long sleeve of purest snowy white, With showers of tears, is steeped in bitter brine. _Anon._ HOMEWARD From Kaminabi's crest The clouds descending pour in sheeted rain, And, 'midst the gloom, the wind sighs o'er the plain:-- Oh! he that sadly press'd, Leaving my loving side, alone to roam Magami's des'late moor, has he reached home? _Anon._ THE MAIDEN AND THE DOG As the bold huntsman on some mountain path Waits for the stag he hopes may pass that way, So wait I for my love both night and day:-- Then bark not at him, as thou fearest my wrath. _Anon_. LOVE IS ALL Where in spring the sweetest flowers Fill Mount Kaminabi's bowers, Where in autumn dyed with red, Each ancient maple rears its head, And Aska's flood, with sedges lin'd, As a belt the mound doth bind:-- There see my heart--a reed that sways, Nor aught but love's swift stream obeys, And now, if like the dew, dear maid, Life must fade, then let it fade:-- My secret love is not in vain, For thou lov'st me back again. HUSBAND AND WIFE WIFE.-- Though other women's husbands ride Along the road in proud array, My husband, up the rough hill-side, On foot must wend his weary way. The grievous sight with bitter pain My bosom fills, and many a tear Steals down my cheek, and I would fain Do aught to help my husband dear. Come! take the mirror and the veil, My mother's parting gifts to me; In barter they must sure avail To buy an horse to carry thee! HUSBAND.-- And I should purchase me an horse, Must not my wife still sadly walk? No, no! though stony is our course, We'll trudge along and sweetly talk. _Anon._ HE COMES NOT He comes not! 'tis in vain I wait; The crane's wild cry strikes on mine ear, The tempest howls, the hour is late, Dark is the raven night and drear:-- And, as I thus stand sighing, The snowflakes round me flying Light on my sleeve, and freeze it crisp and clear. Sure 'tis too late! he cannot come; Yet trust I still that we may meet, As sailors gayly rowing home Trust in their ship so safe and fleet. Though waking hours conceal him, Oh! may my dreams reveal him, Filling the long, long night with converse sweet! _Anon_. HE AND SHE