Francis William Lauderdale Adams (1862-1893)
From Songs of the Army of the Night.
He sits. Upon the kingly head doth rest
The round-balled wimple, and the heavy rings
Touch on the shoulders where the swallow clings;
The downward garment shows the ambiguous breast;
The Face--that Face one scarce can look on, lest
One learn the secret of unspeakable things;
But the dread gaze descends with shudderings
To the veiled couched knees, the hands and thumbs close-pressed.
O lidded downcast eyes that bear the weight
Of all our woes and terrible wrong's increase,
Proud nostrils, lips proud-perfecter than these,
With what a soul within you do you wait--
Disdain and pity, love late-born of hate,
Passion eternal, patience, pride and peace!
*One of three giant statues of the Buddha in Japan.
(Text from The Sonnet in Australasia.)