In the book-slums there is thunder; Intoxicates the knights and beggar-men. Confucius hears a carol and a hum: "Sage with holy brow, Say farewell to China now; Live like the swine, Leave off your scholar-gown! This city of books is falling, falling, The Empire of China is crumbling down." II Confucius, Confucius, how great was Confucius— The sunrise of Lu, and the master of Mencius? Alexander fights the East. Just as the Indus turns him back With crowns outshining India's crown: The Empire of China, crumbling down. "Egypt, Persia and Macedon, Tyre and Carthage, passed away; And the Empire of China is crumbling down. Rome will never crumble down." III See how the generations pass Like sand through Heaven's blue hour-glass. Arthur waits on the British shore One thankful day, For Galahad sails back at last To Camelot Bay. The pure knight lands and tells the tale: "Far in the east A sea-girl led us to a king, The king to a feast, In a land where poppies bloom for miles, Where books are made like bricks and tiles. I taught that king to love your nameBrother and Christian he became. "His Town of Thunder-Powder keeps "His Town of Cheese the mouse affrights With fire-winged cats that light the nights. They glorify the land of rust; Their sneeze is music in the dust. "All towns have one same miracle Arthur calls his knights in rows: "I will go if Merlin goes; These rebels must be flayed and sliced— But Merlin whispers in his beard: Arthur stares at the sea-foam's rim She laughs in her wing, like the sleeve of a gown. She lifts a key of crimson stone: "The Great Gunpowder-town you own." She lifts a key with chains and rings: Throws forty keys at Arthur's feet: "These unlock the land complete." Then, frightened by suspicious knights, And the Christian towers of Arthur's town, Fleeing far across the bay, Wailing through the gorgeous day: "My sick king begs you save his crown And his learnèd chiefs from the worm and clown The Empire of China is crumbling down." Always the generations pass, IV Like sand through Heaven's blue hour-glass! The time the King of Rome is born- Bonaparte finds beside his throne One evening, laughing in her wing, A Chinese sea-child; and she cries, And gets but incense, dust and drouth. In Tokio they cry: "O King, Slowly the generations pass— Like sand through Heaven's blue hour-glass. But let us find tomorrow now: Our towns are gone; Our books have passed; ten thousand years Have thundered on. The Sphinx looks far across the world |