The gloom of night is swept away
As by a scouring broom—
Dawn’s golden-fingered beams reveal
A curious mushroom.
In land of rising sun seek I—
With silent tread of foot
Confectioneries wondrous wrought
Like man’s own tenderest root.
‘Tis work of patient souls sublime
From far across the sea—
Angelic food celestial
Which, careless step and handling mine—
As flowers on a tomb
Cast o’er the gentle earth divine
Japan’s sweet fungal bloom.