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Rh The grey-robed, gay-sashed butterflies

That flit beneath the Master's eyes—

He is beyond the Mysteries

But loves them at Kamakura.

And whoso will, from Pride released,

Contemning neither creed nor priest,

May feel the soul of all the East

About him at Kamakura.

Yea, every tale Ananda heard,

Of birth as fish or beast or bird,

While yet in lives the Master stirred,

The warm wind brings Kamakura.

Till drowsy eyelids seem to see

A-flower 'neath her golden htee

The Shwe-Dagon flare easterly

From Burmah to Kamakura;

And down the loaded air there comes

The thunder of Thibetan drums,

And droned—"Om mane padme oms"—

A world's width from Kamakura.