The Green Sheaf no.11total 8pp. 225mm*295mm 本文８頁。付録なし。停滞感が顕著にあらわれている。

THE VIOLET.

One night, When breezes and mists were grey with one sad memory (The stars had lost their way to their posts) I stood upon the street: I felt as i were older than a star. I watched the people passing by. Phantoms were they not ? Were they not part of the ashen air ? I thought they were more glad to disappear than to exist : They were no more distinct than their shadows on the ground. Some tempting odour as from a happy dale Made them bend forward with hurring step. I watched them for many an hour : Suddenly a girl's shape caught my eyes : "Thou art my lover lost," I cried. How well I remembered her slightly turned face, Like a flower in rapture with God's bliss ! 'Twas her old manner to show her ankle small, Her dress flapping like her own heart. Her tassels of hair hung as of yore, Like whispering grasses on the sky-road. I rushed forth : "My O Yen, my beloved !" O Yen San was my old lover lost, I knew not how long ago, -- Surely it was in another happier world ! Alas, she vanished. In vain I ran after her. Only a bunch of violets was left behind : The soul of the flower was O Yen's soul. O Violet, dear one, fed by gossamer and shower, In the bosom of light and wind ! 'Twas many a year ago I bade thee farewell, Leaving the path of beauty and love, To wander toward the city and dust. Tell me, Violet, does O Yen love me no more ? Pray, open thy soul of Spring and smile, Let me dream awhile upon my sweet past ! Lo, my soul smitten by noise and storm, Is like a dead leaf on the stream to the Unseen.

Yone Noguchi

CUP AND BALL Between passing of night and birth of morn, When the pale stars close their eyes, Each moment new beauty and magic are born For souls whom the Gods make wise. The light of the moon is the only light, Yet her cold ray reaches far, And the watcher who wakes through the lonely night May welcome the morning star : Who shines when her sisters are sleeping all, -- Ere the crescent moon climbs up -- Poised aloft in the heavens like a golden ball Thrown out of a golden cup. While ever and ever the moon mounts higher, With the morning star above, To the East leaps a glow and a glory of fire, As leaps to a cold heart Love. Let up keep out vigil together soon, Whilst the stars are sleeping all Save one only, with whom and the crescent moon The Gods play at cup and ball.

Mary Grace Walker.

an illustration of PCS for "A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE" a poem by anon.(presummably Alix Egerton).

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