A PART from all,
" Child of the World's old age, "
Heedful of naught beyond the billowy wall
That closely girt her island hermitage,
She pondered still, with half-averted look,
The early lessons of the great World-book,
Nor cared to turn the page,

For a strange dread
Possessed her. To invoke
Aid of her gods she tried, — scarce comforted
That countless barrier-waves about her broke;
But when, with bold command, in Yeddo bay
A squadron anchored, — oh, prodigious day! —
The Orient awoke!

Though one long blind,
At first in fruitless quest
Must grope her course, yet, with enlarging mind,
She quickly clearer saw; and from her breast
Sent forth brave sons — of her new hunger taught —
Who, one by one returning, to her brought
The wisdom of the West.

Then earth beheld,
With awe and wonderment,
Goliath by this stripling nation felled,
Which — rising by no tedious ascent —
Swift as the upward flight of wind-swept flame,
Leapt from obscurity to dazzling fame, —
Star of the Orient!

And yet she won
Sublimer victories,
Who, high enlightened all excess to shun,
Did not exact remorseless penalties,
Nor force a brave and fallen foe to drain
Humiliation's brimming cup of pain
Down to the poisoned lees.

In lieu of things
Ephemeral — less worth,
She full-revealed the sweep of her strong wings,
And gained the suffrage of the grateful earth;
Choosing, as war should from her realms depart,
To give herself to the enduring Art
That was her own at birth.

Ah, great Japan, —
Who, staying griefs appalling,
Approved thyself magnanimous to man, —
The World, that long had felt thy charm enthralling,
Has laid full many laurels on thy brow;
But with a new, diviner accent now
She hears the East a-calling!