Page:Potipharswifeoth00arnoiala.djvu/85

 While Yuki San, a-tiptoe, reaches down

A many-tinctured, fairy-patterned robe—

All gold and scarlet and celestial white—

Of feathers wove, but feathers of such birds

As surely never perched on earthly tree!

The lining shot with airy tender tints

As of a broken rainbow. Glad he scans

The strange bright treasure-trove. Another such

Suruga never saw!—Narumi's looms

Never dreamed such a marvel! Light of heart

Into his hut dances Hakuriyô.

Casting the nets aside to clasp the robe.

Next,—very softly trill the samisens,

The drums beat muted, and the flute pipes forth

Expectant tones, while—light as falling snow

Or breath of morning breeze, whispering its way

Through the awakening maple-leaves—glides in

A Heavenly Fairy! 'Tis O Tsuru San:

And neck, breast, slender little amber limbs

Are bare as the brown sea-sand: just one cloth

Tied with a sky-blue string about the waist

Half covers her. Sweetly and movingly