The maidens of Miyako Dance in the sunset hours, Deep in the sunset glow, Under the cherry flowers. With dreamy hands of pearl Floating like butterflies, Dimly the dancers whirl As the rose light dies; And their floating gowns, their hair Upbound with curious pins, Fade thro’ the darkening air With the dancing mandarins. And then, as we went, the tall thin man Explained the manners of Old Japan; If you pitied a thing, you pretended to sneer; Yet if you were glad you ran to buy A captive pigeon and let it fly; And, if you were sad, you took a spear To wound yourself, for fear your pain Should quietly grow less again. And, again he said, if we wished to find The mystic City that enshrined The stone so few on earth had found, We must be very brave; it lay A hundred haunted leagues away, Past many a griffon-guarded ground, In depths of dark and curious art, Where passion-flowers enfold apart The Temple of the Flaming Heart, The City of the Secret Wound. About the fragrant fall of day We saw beside the twisted way A blue-domed tea-house, bossed with gold; Hungry and thirsty we entered in: How should we know what Creeping Sin Had breathed in that Emperor’s ear who sold His own dumb soul for an evil jewel To the earth-gods, blind and ugly and cruel?... We drank sweet tea as his tale was told, In a garden of blue chrysanthemums, While a drowsy swarming of gongs and drums Out of the sunset dreamily rolled. But, as the murmur nearer drew, A fat black bonze, in a robe of blue, Suddenly at the gate appeared; And close behind, with that evil grin, Was it Creeping Sin, was it Creeping Sin? The bonze looked quietly down and sneered. Our guide! Was he sleeping? We could not wake him, However we tried to pinch and shake him! Nearer, nearer the tumult came, Till, as a glare of sound and flame, Blind from a terrible furnace door Blares, or the mouth of a dragon, blazed The seething gateway: deaf and dazed With the clanging and the wild uproar We stood; while a thousand oval eyes Gapped our fear with a sick surmise. Then, as the dead sea parted asunder, The clamour clove with a sound of thunder In two great billows; and all was quiet. Gaunt and black was the palankeen That came in dreadful state between The frozen waves of the wild-eyed riot Curling back from the breathless track Of the Nameless One who is never seen: The close drawn curtains were thick and black; But wizen and white was the tall thin man As he rose in his sleep: His eyes were closed, his lips were wan, He crouched like a leopard that dares not leap. The bearers halted: the tall thin man, Fearfully dreaming, waved his fan, With wizard fingers, to and fro; While, with a whimper of evil glee, The Nameless Emperor’s mad Moonshee Stepped in front of us: dark and slow Were the words of the doom that he dared not name; But, over the ground, as he spoke, there came Tiny circles of soft blue flame; Like ghosts of flowers they began to glow, And flow like a moonlit brook between Our feet and the terrible palankeen. But the Moonshee wrinkled his long thin eyes, And sneered, “Have you stolen the strength of the skies? Then pour before us a stream of pearl! Give us the pearl and the gold we know, And our hearts will be softened and let you go; But these are toys for a foolish girl— These vanishing blossoms—what are they worth? They are not so heavy as dust and earth: Pour before us a stream of pearl!” Then, with a wild strange laugh, our guide Stretched his arms to the West and cried Once, and a song came over the sea; And all the blossoms of moon-soft fire Woke and breathed as a wind-swept lyre, And the garden surged into harmony; Till it seemed that the soul of the whole world sung, And every petal became a tongue To tell the thoughts of Eternity. But the Moonshee lifted his painted brows And stared at the gold on the blue tea-house: “Can you clothe your body with dreams?” he sneered; “If you taught us the truths that we always know Our heart might be softened and let you go: Can you tell us the length of a monkey’s beard, Or the weight of the gems on the Emperor’s fan, Or the number of parrots in Old Japan?” And again, with a wild strange laugh, our guide Looked at him; and he shrunk aside, Shrivelling like a flame-touched leaf; For the red-cross blossoms of soft blue fire Were growing and fluttering higher and higher, Shaking their petals out, sheaf by sheaf, Till with disks like shields and stems like towers Burned the host of the passion-flowers ... Had the Moonshee flown like a midnight thief? ... Yet a thing like a monkey, shrivelled and black, Chattered and danced as they forced him back. As the coward chatters for empty pride, In the face of a foe that he cannot but fear, It chattered and leapt from side to side, And its voice rang strangely upon the ear. As the cry of a wizard that dares not own Another’s brighter and mightier throne; As the wrath of a fool that rails aloud On the fire that burnt him; the brazen bray Clamoured and sang o’er the gaping crowd, And flapped like a gabbling goose away.