"And is all well, O Thou Unweariable Launcher of worlds upon bewildered space," Rose in me, "All? or did thy hand grow dull Building this world that bears a piteous race? O was it launched too soon or launched too late? Or can it be a derelict that drifts Beyond thy ken toward some reef of Fate On which Oblivion's sand forever shifts?" IV The sea grew softer as I questioned--calm With mystery that like an answer moved, And from infinity there fell a balm, The old peace that God _is_, tho all unproved. The old faith that tho gulfs sidereal stun The soul, and knowledge drown within their deep, There is no world that wanders, no not one Of all the millions, that He does not keep. THE PROSELYTE RECANTS (_In Japan_) Where the fair golden idols Sit in darkness and in silence While the temple drum beats solemnly and slow; Where the tall cryptomerias Sway in worship round about And the rain that is falling whispers low; I can hear strange voices Of the dead and forgotten, On the dimly rising incense I can see The lives I have lived, And my lives unbegotten, _Namu Amida Butsu_ pity me! I was born this karma Of a mother in Chuzenji, Where Nantai-zan looks down into the lake; Where the white-thronged pilgrims Climb to altars in the clouds And behold the holy eastern dawn awake. It was there I wandered Till a priest of the Christians With the crucifix he wore compelled my gaze. In grief I had grown, So upon its grief I pondered. _Namu Amida Butsu_, keep my days! It was wrong, he told me, To pray Jiso for my children, And Binzuru for healing of my ills. And our gods so many Were conceived, he said, in sin, From Lord Shaka to the least upon the hills. In despair I listened For my heart beat hopeless, Not a temple of my land had helped me live. But alas that day When I let my soul be christened! _Namu Amida Butsu_, O forgive! For the Christ they gave me As the only Law and Lotus, As the only way to Light that will not wane, May perchance have power For the people of the West, But to me he seemed the servitor of pain. For in pain he perished As one born to passion: In some other life no doubt his sin was great, Tho they told me no, Those who followed him and cherished. _Namu Amida Butsu_, such is fate. So again to idols Of the Buddha who is boundless, While the temple drum is beating thro the rain, I have turned from treason Into Meditation's truth, From the strife the Western god regards as gain. And if now I'm dying As the voices tell me, To the lives that I must live I'll meekly go; Till my long grief ends In Nirvana, and my sighing. _Namu Amida Butsu_, be it so! LOVE IN JAPAN I Dragon-fly lighting On the temple-bell, Whose soul do you hear On the Day of the Dead? The soul of my lover? Ah me, the plighting Between two hearts That were never wed!