There is on earth a thing more bootless still Than to write figures on a running stream:-- And that thing is (believe me if you will) To dream of one who ne'er of you doth dream. _Anon._ * * * * * XXXI _Love_ Since that first night when, bath'd in hopeless tears, I sank asleep, and he I love did seem To visit me, I welcome ev'ry dream, Sure that they come as heav'n-sent messengers. _Komachi._ XXXII _Love_ Methinks my tenderness the grass must be, Clothing some mountain desolate and lone; For though it daily grows luxuriantly, To ev'ry mortal eye 'tis still unknown. _Yoshiki._ XXXIII _Love_ Upon the causeway through the land of dreams Surely the dews must plentifully light:-- For when I've wandered up and down all night, My sleeve's so wet that nought will dry its streams. _Tsurayuki._ XXXIV _Love_ Fast fall the silv'ry dews, albeit not yet 'Tis autumn weather; for each drop's a tear, Shed till the pillow of my hand is wet, As I wake from dreaming of my dear. _Anon._ XXXV _Love_ I ask'd my soul where springs th' ill-omened seed That bears the herb of dull forgetfulness;[155] And answer straightway came:--Th' accursed weed Grows in that heart which knows no tenderness. _Sosei._ XXXVI _Elegies_[156] So frail our life, perchance to-morrow's sun May never rise for me. Ah! well-a-day! Till comes the twilight of the sad to-day, I'll mourn for thee, O thou beloved one! _Tsurayuki._ XXXVII _Elegies_ The perfume is the same, the same the hue As that which erst my senses did delight:-- But he who planted the fair avenue Is here no more, alas! to please my sight! _Tsurayuki._ XXXVIII _Elegies_ One thing, alas! more fleeting have I seen Than wither'd leaves driv'n by the autumn gust:-- Yea, evanescent as the whirling dust Is man's brief passage o'er this mortal scene! _Chisato._ XXXIX Softly the dews upon my forehead light:-- From off the oars, perchance, as feather'd spray, They drop, while some fair skiff bends on her way Across the Heav'nly Stream[157] on starlit night. _Anon._ XL What though the waters of that antique rill That flows along the heath, no more are cold; Those who remember what it was of old Go forth to draw them in their buckets still. _Anon._ XLI[158] Old Age is not a friend I wish to meet; And if some day to see me he should come, I'd lock the door as he walk'd up the street, And cry, "Most honored sir! I'm not at home!" _Anon_. XLII[159] Yes, I am old; but yet with doleful stour I will not choose to rail 'gainst Fate's decree. An' I had not grown old, then ne'er for me Had dawned the day that brings this golden hour. _Toshiyuki._ XLIII[160]