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 Love reigned upon the Rice-boat, And Peace controlled the sea, The spirit's consolation, The senses' ecstasy.

Though many things and mighty Are furthered in the West, The ancient Peace has vanished Before To-day's unrest. For how among their striving, Their gold, their lust, their drink, Shall men find time for dreaming Or any space to think?

Think not I scorn the Science That lightens human pain; Though man's reliance often Is placed on it in vain. Maybe the long endeavour, The patience and the strife, May some day solve the riddle, The Mystery of Life.

Perchance I do not value Things Western as I ought, The trains,—that take us, whither? The ships,—that reach, what port? To me it seems but chaos Of greed and haste and rage, The endless, aimless, motion Of squirrels in a cage.

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