BUDDHA. The little jade Buddha (his favours increase!)-- He's soapy and bland, And he sits on his stand And he smiles, and he smiles in an infinite peace; For he's old, and he knows that, whatever befall, There is nothing that matters, no, nothing at all. The little jade Buddha (on us be his balm!)-- The Wheel turneth just As it must, as it must, So he sits in an ageless, ineffable calm Where apples and empires may ripen or fall, But there's nothing that matters, no, nothing at all * * * * * Transcriber's note: The typographical error "sich" in the last paragraph of "Honorifics" on page 81 was replaced by "such".