And we felt a grand and beautiful fear, For we knew that a marvellous thought drew near; So we kept the glass for a little while: And the skies grew deeper and twice as bright, And the seas grew soft as a flower of light, And the meadows rippled from stile to stile; And memories danced in a musical throng Thro’ the blossom that scented the wonderful song. SONG _We sailed across the silver seas And saw the sea-blue bowers, We saw the purple cherry trees, And all the foreign flowers, We travelled in a palanquin Beyond the caravan, And yet our hearts had never seen The Flower of Old Japan._ _The Flower above all other flowers, The Flower that never dies;_ _Before whose throne the scented hours Offer their sacrifice; The Flower that here on earth below Reveals the heavenly plan; But only little children know The Flower of Old Japan._ There, in the dim blue flowery plain We wished with the magic glass again To go to the Flower of the song’s desire: And o’er us the whole of the soft blue sky Flashed like fire as the world went by, And far beneath us the sea like fire Flashed in one swift blue brilliant stream, And the journey was done, like a change in a dream. PART IV THE END OF THE QUEST Like the dawn upon a dream Slowly through the scented gloom Crept once more the ruddy gleam O’er the friendly nursery room. There, before our waking eyes, Large and ghostly, white and dim, Dreamed the Flower that never dies, Opening wide its rosy rim. Spreading like a ghostly fan, Petals white as porcelain, There the Flower of Old Japan Told us we were home again; For a soft and curious light Suddenly was o’er it shed, And we saw it was a white English daisy, ringed with red. Slowly, as a wavering mist Waned the wonder out of sight, To a sigh of amethyst, To a wraith of scented light. Flower and magic glass had gone; Near the clutching fire we sat Dreaming, dreaming, all alone, Each upon a furry mat. While the firelight, red and clear, Fluttered in the black wet pane, It was very good to hear Howling winds and trotting rain. For we found at last we knew More than all our fancy planned, All the fairy tales were true, And home the heart of fairyland. EPILOGUE Carol, every violet has Heaven for a looking-glass! Every little valley lies Under many-clouded skies; Every little cottage stands Girt about with boundless lands; Every little glimmering pond Claims the mighty shores beyond; Shores no seaman ever hailed, Seas no ship has ever sailed.