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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358635" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The House Of Dust: Part 03: 02: The Screen Maiden</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You read&mdash;what is it, then that you are reading?<br>What music moves so silently in your mind?<br>Your bright hand turns the page.<br>I watch you from my window, unsuspected:<br>You move in an alien land, a silent age . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">. . . The poet&mdash;what was his name&mdash;? Tokkei&mdash;Tokkei&mdash;<br>The poet walked alone in a cold late rain,<br>And thought his grief was like the crying of sea-birds;<br>For his lover was dead, he never would love again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rain in the dreams of the mind&mdash;rain forever&mdash;<br>Rain in the sky of the heart&mdash;rain in the willows&mdash;<br>But then he saw this face, this face like flame,<br>This quiet lady, this portrait by Hiroshigi;<br>And took it home with him; and with it came</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What unexpected changes, subtle as weather!<br>The dark room, cold as rain,<br>Grew faintly fragrant, stirred with a stir of April,<br>Warmed its corners with light again,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And smoke of incense whirled about this portrait,<br>And the quiet lady there,<br>So young, so quietly smiling, with calm hands,<br>Seemed ready to loose her hair,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And smile, and lean from the picture, or say one word,<br>The word already clear,<br>Which seemed to rise like light between her eyelids . .<br>He held his breath to hear,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And smiled for shame, and drank a cup of wine,<br>And held a candle, and searched her face<br>Through all the little shadows, to see what secret<br>Might give so warm a grace . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Was it the quiet mouth, restrained a little?<br>The eyes, half-turned aside?<br>The jade ring on her wrist, still almost swinging? . . .<br>The secret was denied,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He chose his favorite pen and drew these verses,<br>And slept; and as he slept<br>A dream came into his heart, his lover entered,<br>And chided him, and wept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in the morning, waking, he remembered,<br>And thought the dream was strange.<br>Why did his darkened lover rise from the garden?<br>He turned, and felt a change,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As if a someone hidden smiled and watched him . . .<br>Yet there was only sunlight there.<br>Until he saw those young eyes, quietly smiling,<br>And held his breath to stare,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And could have sworn her cheek had turned&mdash;a little . . .<br>Had slightly turned away . . .<br>Sunlight dozed on the floor . . . He sat and wondered,<br>Nor left his room that day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And that day, and for many days thereafter,<br>He sat alone, and thought<br>No lady had ever lived so beautiful<br>As Hiroshigi wrought . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or if she lived, no matter in what country,<br>By what far river or hill or lonely sea,<br>He would look in every face until he found her . . .<br>There was no other as fair as she.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And before her quiet face he burned soft incense,<br>And brought her every day<br>Boughs of the peach, or almond, or snow-white cherry,<br>And somehow, she seemed to say,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That silent lady, young, and quietly smiling,<br>That she was happy there;<br>And sometimes, seeing this, he started to tremble,<br>And desired to touch her hair,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To lay his palm along her hand, touch faintly<br>With delicate finger-tips<br>The ghostly smile that seemed to hover and vanish<br>Upon her lips . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Until he knew he loved this quiet lady;<br>And night by night a dread<br>Leered at his dreams, for he knew that Hiroshigi<br>Was many centuries dead,&mdash;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the lady, too, was dead, and all who knew her . .<br>Dead, and long turned to dust . . .<br>The thin moon waxed and waned, and left him paler,<br>The peach leaves flew in a gust,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And he would surely have died; but there one day<br>A wise man, white with age,<br>Stared at the portrait, and said, 'This Hiroshigi<br>Knew more than archimage,&mdash;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cunningly drew the body, and called the spirit,<br>Till partly it entered there . . .<br>Sometimes, at death, it entered the portrait wholly . .<br>Do all I say with care,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And she you love may come to you when you call her . . . '<br>So then this ghost, Tokkei,<br>Ran in the sun, bought wine of a hundred merchants,<br>And alone at the end of day</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Entered the darkening room, and faced the portrait,<br>And saw the quiet eyes<br>Gleaming and young in the dusk, and held the wine-cup,<br>And knelt, and did not rise,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And said, aloud, 'Lo-san, will you drink this wine?'<br>Said it three times aloud.<br>And at the third the faint blue smoke of incense<br>Rose to the walls in a cloud,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the lips moved faintly, and the eyes, and the calm hands stirred;<br>And suddenly, with a sigh,<br>The quiet lady came slowly down from the portrait,<br>And stood, while worlds went by,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And lifted her young white hands and took the wine cup;<br>And the poet trembled, and said,<br>'Lo-san, will you stay forever?'&mdash;'Yes, I will stay.'&mdash;<br>'But what when I am dead?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'When you are dead your spirit will find my spirit,<br>And then we shall die no more.'<br>Music came down upon them, and spring returning,<br>They remembered worlds before,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And years went over the earth, and over the sea,<br>And lovers were born and spoke and died,<br>But forever in sunlight went these two immortal,<br>Tokkei and the quiet bride . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Conrad+Potter+Aiken">Conrad Potter Aiken</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358635" data-title="The House Of Dust: Part 03: 02: The Screen Maiden de Conrad Potter Aiken" data-description="You read&mdash;what is it, then that you are reading?
What music moves so silently in your mind?
Your bright hand turns the page.
I watch you from my window, unsuspected:
You move in an alien land, a silent age . . .

. . . The poet&mdash;what was..."></div>
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