'Tis spring, and the mists come stealing
O'er SuminÓye's shore,
And I stand by the seaside musing
On the days that are no more.
I muse on the old-world story,
As the boats glide to and fro,
Of the fisher-boy, Urashima,
Who a-fishing loved to go;
How he came not back to the village
Though sev'n suns had risen and set,
But rowed on past the bounds of ocean,
And the sea-god's daughter met;
How they pledged their faith to each other,
And came to the Evergreen Land,
And entered the sea-god's palace
So lovingly hand in hand,
To dwell for aye in that country,
The ocean-maiden and he—
The country where youth and beauty
Abide eternally.
But the foolish boy said, "To-morrow
I'll come back with thee to dwell;
But I have a word to my father,
A word to my mother to tell."
The maiden answered, "A casket
I give into thine hand;
And if that thou hopest truly
To come back to the Evergreen Land,
"Then open it not, I charge thee!
Open it not, I beseech!"
So the boy rowed home o'er the billows
To SuminÓye's beach.
But where is his native hamlet?
Strange hamlets line the strand.
Where is his mother's cottage?
Strange cots rise on either hand.
"What, in three short years since I left it,"
He cries in his wonder sore,
"Has the home of my childhood vanished?
Is the bamboo fence no more?
"Perchance if I open the casket
Which the maiden gave to me,
My home and the dear old village
Will come back as they used to be."
And he lifts the lid, and there rises
A fleecy, silvery cloud,
That floats off to the Evergreen Country:—
And the fisher-boy cries aloud;
He waves the sleeve of his tunic,
He rolls over on the ground,
He dances with fury and horror,
Running wildly round and round.[132]
But a sudden chill comes o'er him
That bleaches his raven hair,
And furrows with hoary wrinkles
The form erst so young and fair.
His breath grows fainter and fainter,
Till at last he sinks dead on the shore;
And I gaze on the spot where his cottage
Once stood, but now stands no more.
