To the end of the trail / Richard Hovey [electronic text]

THE ORIENT

A FRAGMENT

* * * THE sleet of battle and the hurricane of drums Blight for a while the calm chrysanthemums, To clear the air For the new April that engenders there. But though her strenuous to-morrow Get from the West a heritage of sorrow, Shall not the spirit of Japan Transmute the urge, the bitterness, the moan, To some great bloom of beauty yet unknown To meet the vision of the coming man?

India, a Sabine bride, About the hearthstone of her ravisher Sets up her household gods; and at her side His children learn of her. And surely in her bosom, too, there lies A mystery unborn. Ay, surely, an apocalyptic morn, In Vishnu-land an avatar shall rise.

And the West is with child of the East and the travail is long, A travail of song. And the East is with child of the West and the travail is sore, A travail of war. * * *

May, 1896.