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To the fairest of his friends

This her faithful poet sends.

On the top of Fuji-San

Now we stand; and half Japan

Like a mighty map unrolled

Spreads beneath us, green and gold:

Southward, pale and bright, the sea

Shines, from distant Misaki,

Round Atami's broken coast,

'Till the silvery gleam is lost,

Mingling with the silvery sky,

Far away toward Narumi:

Northward, yonder line of blue—

Over Mino and Bi-shû—

(Say the guides) is Biwa Lake,

Forty ri removed, to take