Harper’s Weekly, February 5, 1881, page 91 (Poem)
Eastern Enigma, under Western skies,

Lift for a moment thy mysterious eyes,

Full of great Asia’s shadowy repose,

And hoary culture—older than mortal knows.

Why art thou here, where telegraphs and steam

Make life to thee like some weird opium dream?

Dost thou not miss, O passionless Tien Sin,

The gray old quiet of thy loved Pekin?

Thy porcelain pagodas, and gardens trim?

Thy pointed roofs, and ponds where gold-fish swim?

Dost thou not miss thy favorite willow-trees,

And sandal-wood, and camphor-scented breeze?

"Barbarians" as we are, yet it must start

Some faint astonishment in thy slow heart

To view our silks, that with thine own compare,

Our fairy miracles of china-ware.

Come, find thy place, and join our onward strife—

Thou must be glad to touch our quick, keen life,

Our myriad-sided life, fresh every day—

Wake up! Thous canst not dream upon Broadway!

He bowed serenely—this is just the case—

And like a smiling tea-pot was his face:

"Me like-ee much-ee, plenty lady wash-ee;

Me chalg-ee lady always leady cash-ee."

Then I desired to scold. I longed to say,

"If this is all your thought upon Broadway,

‘Twere just as well in China yet to be,

Kowtowing to Mandarins—and drinking tea!"

Harper’s Weekly, February 5, 1881, page 91 (Poem)

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