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Buchen, Walther (ed.) / The Wisconsin magazine
Vol. VII, No. 8 (May 1910)

Abata, Shigeyoshi
Festival song,   p. 9


Page 9


FESTIVAL SONG
make to their superiors, embarked again
for their respective ships. Next morning
many boatloads of marines landed from
each ship and scoured the island. King
Matai was found toward noon and told his
part of the story, which cleared matters
up considerably. He was replaced on his
throne with military pomp and the Kale-
polepas made to come back into the fold
by means of dire threats from the uni-
formed strangers. Finally Kennedy's suc-
cessor, who had arrived on the same boat
that bore Kennedy away, was discovered
hiding in terror in the basement of his
bungalow. Although at a loss to explain
the militant state of affairs at his arrival,
for he had hardly seen Kennedy, he told
of his company's option on the cocoa
groves, which was later verified for the
satisfaction of the British Ambassador at
9
Washington. And anyway, what was the
use of starting a war over a few square
miles of cocoa covered sandbar in the mid-
dle of the southern Pacific, a good ten
days fast steaming from all beaten paths
of navigation.
  When the two white leviathans rattled
up their anchor chains and steamed ma-
jestically away from the white TUlapela-
kuan water front, the affair had been
straightened up to the satisfaction of
every one concerned except, perhaps, a
pretty brown girl who stood leaning
against a monster oluhelua tree, gazing
dreamily out at the place in the shimmery
blue line of the horizon where Kanayde
Kanayde, the Historian of Ulapelakua,
had disappeared at sunset of the day be-
fore.
           Festival Song
           SHIGEYOSHI ABATA
Be glad, 0 Fields, and creatures winter chilled!
Rejoice, ye rills and fountains!
For on the East-wind's wing
She comes to you to bring
From far beyond the mountains,
The happy, happy spring.
       Praise Saho, praise the goddess fair,
       Thank Saho for her gift so rare.
O hear the lark from high above the skies
Send down the music of her paradise!
o look! In pink and white and burning red
The hills, as with the morning clouds arrayed;
The long haired willows fondled by the wind;
The bearded banks kissed soft by ripples kind.
There, wing to wing,
The butterflies among the grass,
Here, arm in arm, the lad and lass.
'Tis spring; 'Tis spring!
       Rejoice, rejoice,
With loud and happy voice.
Come forth afield and tarry
To sing there all day long.
Sing, ye that have a tongue,
Aloud through all the valley
The happy, happy song.
       Praise Saho, praise the goddess fair,
       Praise Saho for her gifts so rare.
  I
.            z


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