“His Town of Cheese the mouse affrights With fire-winged cats that light the nights. They glorify the land of rust; Their sneeze is music in the dust. (And deep and ancient is the dust.) “All towns have one same miracle With the Town of Silk, the capital-- Vast book-worms in the book-built walls. Their creeping shakes the silver halls; They look like cables, and they seem Like writhing roots on trees of dream. Their sticky cobwebs cross the street, Catching scholars by the feet, Who own the tribes, yet rule them not, Bitten by book-worms till they rot. Beggars and clowns rebel in might Bitten by book-worms till they fight.” Arthur calls to his knights in rows: “I will go if Merlin goes; These rebels must be flayed and sliced-- Let us cut their throats for Christ.” But Merlin whispers in his beard: “China has witches to be feared.” Arthur stares at the sea-foam’s rim Amazed. The fan-girl beckons him!-- That slender and peculiar child Mongolian and brown and wild. His eyes grow wide, his senses drown. She laughs in her wing, like the sleeve of a gown. She lifts a key of crimson stone: “The Great Gunpowder-town you own.” She lifts a key with chains and rings: “I give the town where cats have wings.” She lifts a key as white as milk: “This unlocks the Town of Silk”-- Throws forty keys at Arthur’s feet: “These unlock the land complete.” Then, frightened by suspicious knights, And Merlin’s eyes like altar-lights, And the Christian towers of Arthur’s town, She spreads blue fins--she whirs away; Fleeing far across the bay, Wailing through the gorgeous day: “My sick king begs That you save his crown And his learnèd chiefs from the worm and clown-- The Empire of China is crumbling down.” IV _Always the generations pass, Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass!_ The time the King of Rome is born-- Napoleon’s son, that eaglet thing-- Bonaparte finds beside his throne One evening, laughing in her wing, The Chinese sea-child; and she cries, Breaking his heart with emerald eyes And fairy-bred unearthly grace: “Master, take your destined place-- Across white foam and water blue The streets of China call to you: The Empire of China is crumbling down.” Then he bends to kiss her mouth, And gets but incense, dust and drouth. Custodians, custodians! Mongols and Manchurians! Christians, wolves, Mohammedans! In hard Berlin they cried: “O King, China’s way is a shameful thing!” In Tokio they cry: “O King, China’s way is a shameful thing!” And thus our song might call the roll Of every land from pole to pole, And every rumor known to time Of China doddering--or sublime. V _Slowly the generations pass-- Like sand through Heaven’s blue hour-glass._