BUDDHA AT KAMAKURA
‘And there is a Japanese idol at Kamakura.’
Ohye who tread the Narrow WayBy Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,Be gentle when the ‘heathen’ prayTo Buddha at Kamakura!To him the Way, the Law, Apart,Whom Maya held beneath her heart,Ananda’s Lord the Bodhisat,The Buddha of Kamakura.For though he neither burns nor sees,Nor hears ye thank your Deities,Ye have not sinned with such as these,His children at Kamakura;Yet spare us still the Western jokeWhen joss-sticks turn to scented smokeThe little sins of little folkThat worship at Kamakura—The grey-robed, gay-sashed butterfliesThat flit beneath the Master’s eyes—He is beyond the MysteriesBut loves them at Kamakura.And whoso will, from Pride released,Contemning neither creed nor priest,May feel the soul of all the EastAbout him at Kamakura.Yea, every tale Ananda heard,Of birth as fish or beast or bird,While yet in lives the Master stirred,The warm wind brings Kamakura.Till drowsy eyelids seem to see,A-flower ’neath her goldenhtee,The Shwe-Dagon flare easterlyFrom Burmah to Kamakura;And down the loaded air there comesThe thunder of Thibetan drums,And droned—‘Om mane padme oms’—A world’s width from Kamakura.Yet Brahmans rule Benares still,Buddh-Gaya’s ruins pit the hill,And beef-fed zealots threaten illTo Buddha and Kamakura.A tourist-show, a legend told,A rusting bulk of bronze and gold,So much, and scarce so much, ye holdThe meaning of Kamakura?But when the morning prayer is prayed,Think, ere ye pass to strife and trade,Is God in human image madeNo nearer than Kamakura?
Ohye who tread the Narrow WayBy Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,Be gentle when the ‘heathen’ prayTo Buddha at Kamakura!To him the Way, the Law, Apart,Whom Maya held beneath her heart,Ananda’s Lord the Bodhisat,The Buddha of Kamakura.For though he neither burns nor sees,Nor hears ye thank your Deities,Ye have not sinned with such as these,His children at Kamakura;Yet spare us still the Western jokeWhen joss-sticks turn to scented smokeThe little sins of little folkThat worship at Kamakura—The grey-robed, gay-sashed butterfliesThat flit beneath the Master’s eyes—He is beyond the MysteriesBut loves them at Kamakura.And whoso will, from Pride released,Contemning neither creed nor priest,May feel the soul of all the EastAbout him at Kamakura.Yea, every tale Ananda heard,Of birth as fish or beast or bird,While yet in lives the Master stirred,The warm wind brings Kamakura.Till drowsy eyelids seem to see,A-flower ’neath her goldenhtee,The Shwe-Dagon flare easterlyFrom Burmah to Kamakura;And down the loaded air there comesThe thunder of Thibetan drums,And droned—‘Om mane padme oms’—A world’s width from Kamakura.Yet Brahmans rule Benares still,Buddh-Gaya’s ruins pit the hill,And beef-fed zealots threaten illTo Buddha and Kamakura.A tourist-show, a legend told,A rusting bulk of bronze and gold,So much, and scarce so much, ye holdThe meaning of Kamakura?But when the morning prayer is prayed,Think, ere ye pass to strife and trade,Is God in human image madeNo nearer than Kamakura?
Ohye who tread the Narrow WayBy Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,Be gentle when the ‘heathen’ prayTo Buddha at Kamakura!
To him the Way, the Law, Apart,Whom Maya held beneath her heart,Ananda’s Lord the Bodhisat,The Buddha of Kamakura.
For though he neither burns nor sees,Nor hears ye thank your Deities,Ye have not sinned with such as these,His children at Kamakura;
Yet spare us still the Western jokeWhen joss-sticks turn to scented smokeThe little sins of little folkThat worship at Kamakura—
The grey-robed, gay-sashed butterfliesThat flit beneath the Master’s eyes—He is beyond the MysteriesBut loves them at Kamakura.
And whoso will, from Pride released,Contemning neither creed nor priest,May feel the soul of all the EastAbout him at Kamakura.
Yea, every tale Ananda heard,Of birth as fish or beast or bird,While yet in lives the Master stirred,The warm wind brings Kamakura.
Till drowsy eyelids seem to see,A-flower ’neath her goldenhtee,The Shwe-Dagon flare easterlyFrom Burmah to Kamakura;
And down the loaded air there comesThe thunder of Thibetan drums,And droned—‘Om mane padme oms’—A world’s width from Kamakura.
Yet Brahmans rule Benares still,Buddh-Gaya’s ruins pit the hill,And beef-fed zealots threaten illTo Buddha and Kamakura.
A tourist-show, a legend told,A rusting bulk of bronze and gold,So much, and scarce so much, ye holdThe meaning of Kamakura?
But when the morning prayer is prayed,Think, ere ye pass to strife and trade,Is God in human image madeNo nearer than Kamakura?