ABSTRACT
Does it not seem to you, who have a sensitive mind and love to dream of the fitness of things, that the gentle moon is distinctly a Japanese orb, whose especial pleasure it must be to shine on a gentle land, through the graceful stems of bamboo; to kiss the snowy brow of Fuji-yama, cold as chastity; to glimmer in the dusky rice-fields, where the sleeping heron stands like a huge dark flower on its slender stalk?1
