EVOCATION

Dim thro’ the mist and cryptomeria Booms the temple bell, Down from the tomb of Ieyasue Yearning, as a knell.

Down from the tomb where many an aeon Silently has knelt; Many a pilgrimage of millions — Still about it felt.

Still, for I see them gather ghostly Now, as the numb sound Floats, an unearthly necromancy, From the past's dead ground.

See the invisible vast millions, Hear their soundless feet Climbing the shrine-ways to the gilded Carven temple's seat.

And, one among them — pale among them — Passes waning by. What is it tells me mystically That strange one was I?...

Weird thro’ the mist and cryptomeria Dies the bell —‘ tis dumb. After how many lives returning Shall I hither come?

Hither again! and climb the votive Ever mossy ways? Who shall the gods be then, the millions Meek, entreat or praise?