Part I: Embarkation

When the firelight, red and clear,Flutters in the black wet pane,It is very good to hearHowling winds and trotting rain:It is very good indeed,When the nights are dark and cold,Near the friendly hearth to readTales of ghosts and buried gold.

So with cozy toes and handsWe were dreaming, just like you;Till we thought of palmy landsColoured like a cockatoo;All in drowsy nursery nooksNear the clutching fire we sat,Searching quaint old story-booksPiled upon the furry mat.

Something haunted us that nightLike a half-remembered name;Worn old pages in that lightSeemed the same, yet not the same:Curling in the pleasant heatSmoothly as a shell-shaped fan,O, they breathed and smelt so sweetWhen we turned to Old Japan!

Suddenly we thought we heardSomeone tapping on the wall,Tapping, tapping like a bird.Then a panel seemed to fallQuietly; and a tall thin manStepped into the glimmering room,And he held a little fan,And he waved it in the gloom.

Curious red, and golds, and greensDanced before our startled eyes,Birds from painted Indian screens,Beads, and shells, and dragon-flies;Wings, and flowers, and scent, and flame,Fans and fish and heliotrope;Till the magic air becameLike a dream kaleidoscope.

Then he told us of a landFar across a fairy sea;And he waved his thin white handLike a flower, melodiously;While a red and blue macawPerched upon his pointed head,And as in a dream, we sawAll the curious things he said.

Tucked in tiny palanquins,Magically swinging there,Flowery-kirtled mandarinsFloated through the scented air;Wandering dogs and prowling catsGrinned at fish in painted lakes;Cross-legged conjurers on matsFluted low to listening snakes.

Fat black bonzes on the shoreWatched where singing, faint and far,Boys in long blue garments boreRoses in a golden jar.While at carven dragon shipsFloating o'er that silent sea,Squat-limbed gods with dreadful lipsLeered and smiled mysteriously.

Like an idol, shrined alone,Watched by secret oval eyes,Where the ruby wishing-stoneSmouldering in the darkness lies,Anyone that wanted thingsTouched the jewel and they came;We were wealthier than kingsCould we only do the same.

Yes; we knew a hundred waysWe might use it if we could;To be happy all our daysAs an Indian in a wood;No more daily lesson task,No more sorrow, no more care;So we thought that we would askIf he'd kindly lead us there.

Ah, but then he waved his fan,Laughed and vanished through the wall;Yet as in a dream, we ranTumbling after, one and all;Never pausing once to think,Panting after him we sped;Far away his robe of pinkFloated backward as he fled.

Down a secret passage deep,Under roofs of spidery stairs,Where the bat-winged nightmares creep,And a sheeted phantom glaresRushed we; ah, how strange it wasWhere no human watcher stood;Till we reached a gate of glassOpening on a flowery wood.

Where the rose-pink robe had flown,Borne by swifter feet than ours,On to Wonder-Wander town,Through the wood of monstrous flowers;Mailed in monstrous gold and blueDragon-flies like peacocks fled;Butterflies like carpets, too,Softly fluttered overhead.

Down the valley, tip-a-toe,Where the broad-limbed giants lieSnoring, as when long agoJack on a bean-stalk scaled the sky;On to Wonder-Wander townStole we past old dreams again,Castles long since battered down,Dungeons of forgotten pain.

Noonday brooded on the wood,Evening caught us ere we creptWhere a twisted pear-tree stood,And a dwarf behind it slept;Round his scraggy throat he wore,Knotted tight, a scarlet scarf;Timidly we watched him snore,For he seemed a surly dwarf.

Yet, he looked so very small,He could hardly hurt us much;We were nearly twice as tall,So we woke him with a touchGently, and in tones polite,Asked him to direct our path;O, his wrinkled eyes grew brightGreen with ugly gnomish wrath.

He seemed to choke,And gruffly spoke,"You're lost: deny it, if you can!You want to knowThe way to go?There's no such place as Old Japan.

"You want to seek--No, no, don't speak!You mean you want to steal a fan.You want to seeThe fields of tea?They don't grow tea in Old Japan.

"In China, wellPerhaps you'd smellThe cherry bloom: that's if you ranA million milesAnd jumped the stiles,And never dreamed of Old Japan.

"What, palanquins,And mandarins?And, what d'you say, a blue divan?And what? Hee! hee!You'll never seeA pig-tailed head in Old Japan.

"You'd take awayThe ruby, hey?I never heard of such a plan!Upon my wordIt's quite absurdThere's not a gem in Old Japan!

"Oh, dear me, no!You'd better goStraight home again, my little man:Ah, well, you'll seeBut don't blame me;I don't believe in Old Japan."

Then, before we could obey,O'er our startled heads he cast,Spider-like, a webby greyNet that held us prisoned fast;How we screamed, he only grinned,It was such a lonely place;And he said we should be pinnedSafely in his beetle-case.

Out he dragged a monstrous boxFrom a cave behind the tree!It had four-and-twenty locks,But he could not find the key,And his face grew very paleWhen a sudden voice beganDrawing nearer through the vale,Singing songs of Old Japan,