POETRY.
A VOICE FROM THE EAST.
ENGLISHMEN, Englishmen, ye who are learning the tongues of my fathers, Dreaming that before long ye will learn their heart-secrets also, That with the line of your wit ye will fathom the dim under- current
Flowing far, far below : blind, fate-driven, relentless—
Think ye before your eyes the Book of the East shall be opened?
Dream ye that She, the Close-Veiled, can uncover her face in a lifetime?
She, the Ancient East, born in the very Beginning, Hoary with age and fame ere the bones of your England were hardened!
Land of the sorrowing palm and the wonderful, whispering desert—
Take ye heed lest one day your eager hearts faint with pursuing Phantoms which rise and which fade, dream-things which your minds comprehend not.
Lo, now, the Ancient East, she watcheth your eagerness smiling, E'en as the white-bearded grandsire watcheth his grandson, indulgent,
Saying, Well done now, my child, thou bast almost mastered the alphabet.
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