. St. Nicholas [serial] . morning broke,Resolved, the hapless boy awoke :Confession should those goblins chokeEre back he stole, content, to bed ! Now, in her pretty paper house, Not far away, O Haru SanBeside her paper window sat, Just like a lady on a rose the moon behind a screen Of purple-bright wistaria ;Within, a scroll upon the wall,A vase or two, and that was the honorable matWhereon the lovely lady sweet kimono, primrose-hued,She wore, with storks and lilies thus all night the moon she viewed, Regardless of malaria. To her, absorbed in tea and thou
. St. Nicholas [serial] . morning broke,Resolved, the hapless boy awoke :Confession should those goblins chokeEre back he stole, content, to bed ! Now, in her pretty paper house, Not far away, O Haru SanBeside her paper window sat, Just like a lady on a rose the moon behind a screen Of purple-bright wistaria ;Within, a scroll upon the wall,A vase or two, and that was the honorable matWhereon the lovely lady sweet kimono, primrose-hued,She wore, with storks and lilies thus all night the moon she viewed, Regardless of malaria. To her, absorbed in tea and thought, Did Totsi come to pay his call.(He left his shoes,and not his hat Within the honorable hall.)He bowed and bowed and bowed and bowed, He smiled and smiled and smiled again ;His heart — he did not stop for that —Went Japanese for told his tale with touching grace ;Alas, how cold her lovely face!Could she, but for a moments space, Have felt herself a child again ! 9°5- TOTSI AND THE CHERRY-BOUGH. 110;. YET AS HE FLED, HE DARED NOT LOOK ATFUSIYAMA, STERN AND HIGH. Who steals, she said, he must arc forgiven—how stern herbrow! — When fresh as first its blossoms bring me back my Totsi knelt (he smiled, of course,) And sought the outer room again;Where, tumbling blindly through the wall(T was only paper, after all!), As in a dream he homeward sped,The dawn above him deepening red:All wilted was the bough, and dead,—How could he make it bloom again ! He thought all day, he dreamed all night; The smile grew wan about his listless watched his good papa, Who worked with busy lovely lacquer bowls he made, And jars of priceless pottery,And painted — Totsis eyes grew wide —He, too, the gentle craft had — at once — he would begin !(And, oh, what fun it must have beenThat pretty clay to dabble in, All soft and terra-cotta-ry !) The storks went flying day by day About the groves of ta
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
