The Maiden of Katsushika

Where in the far-off eastern land
The cock first crows at dawn,
The people still hand down a tale
Of days long dead and gone.

They tell of Katsushika’s maid,
Whose sash of country blue
Bound but a frock of home-spun hemp,
And kirtle coarse to view;

Whose feet no shoe had e’er confined,
Nor comb passed through her hair;
Yet all the queens in damask robes
Might nevermore compare.

With this dear child, who smiling stood,
A flow’ret of the spring—
In beauty perfect and complete,
Like to the moon’s full ring.

And, as the summer moths that fly
Towards the flame so bright,
Or as the boats that deck the port
When fall the shades of night,

So came the suitors; but she said:—
“Why take me for your wife?
Full well I know my humble lot,
I know how short my life.”136

So where the dashing billows beat
On the loud-sounding shore,
Hath Katsushika’s tender maid
Her home for evermore.

Yes! ’tis a tale of days long past;
But, listening to the lay,
It seems as I had gazed upon
Her face but yesterday.

Anon.