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Japanese Prints Post by :dzinecity Category :Poems Author :Frank Oliver Call Date :October 2011 Read :2086

Click below to download : Japanese Prints (Format : PDF)

Japanese Prints


O little lady with the yellow fan
Why are you so sad?
Why does a tear stand
Like a tea-flower bud upon your cheek?
Your dress is of blue and scarlet silk,
Your slippers are embroidered with gems,
A gold and emerald butterfly has lighted in your hair,
Your serving-maid stands near
Awaiting your command,
And if you lifted but one slender finger
A chariot would come and carry you away to your father's palace.
Why are you so sad?

It is because the ships beside the shore
Spread their dark sails to the sea-blowing breeze;
The tide is high, and soon will set toward the distant islands,
And there is a gleam of swords and armour,
For the soldiers go to war beyond the seas.


There are yellow birds within the cage;
Beside its gilded bars there stand the women
Whom the Great Prince loves to honour.
They wear silken robes and jewels in their hair,
And live in a pretty pink and yellow house.
But the women look not at the captive singing-birds,
Nor listen to their song,
Their eyes follow the flight of two white-breasted doves,
Winging their way towards the wind-torn clouds.


Why do you peer at me, old man,
With eyes half shut,
From underneath the purple lanterns of your wisteria vine?
Your face is but a mask,
Showing neither joy nor sorrow;
But I know you bend your head to listen
When the wild geese go honking towards the south,
And your eyes grow wide with sadness,
When the last petal falls from the wisteria flower.
You, too, love beauty,
Or else why twine the purple wisteria about your door-posts,
Or pin a yellow gem upon your lilac gown?

(The end)
Frank Oliver Call's poem: Japanese Prints

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A Venetian Palace A Venetian Palace

A Venetian Palace
In quivering translucent light, Her head resting upon the blue pillow of the sky, Her feet upon the floor of the smoke-blue water, Sleeps Beauty, Turned to stone by a miracle of art. And though she never stirs, But slumbers on in a worn and faded robe Rose-colored and bordered with old lace of ivory white, We come from far-off cities, And we turn to her our hungry eyes, Even away from sunlit sky and sea.(The end)Frank Oliver Call's poem: Venetian Palace

Visions Visions

I. I saw a vision of beauty. My eyes looked through the mists of ages, Back to the glorious years when Beauty itself was God. And I saw the waves of the blue AEgean, Turquoise, sapphire, jacinth and amethyst mingled, And I heard the singing of the water, As of playing of distant pipes By slender shepherd lads among the hills. Then I turned away from the shore And I saw the pediment of a great temple Standing white against the sky, And beneath the pediment rows of marble