A Tale of Old Japan — Background and Themes

The Painter and His World

The poem's first section introduces Tenko through a series of vivid, almost painterly details: he paints "peacock islands" and "dragons of old Japan" under his willow tree. The language is deliberately ornamental, with similes comparing the child Kimi to a "lotus lily" and "cherry flower." This decorative style mirrors the aesthetic of the ukiyo-e prints that Noyes may have been familiar with. Yet the verse also contains hints of loss—Kimi's father, the "old pearl-fisher," has been "lost in his junk at sea." The narrative voice remains detached, observing the scene without moral commentary, which allows the imagery to carry the emotional weight.

The Arrival of Sawara

Section II introduces Sawara, who arrives "riding on a milk-white mule," described as "young and poor and proud." The repetition of "Peonies, peonies crowned the May" creates a refrain-like structure, anchoring the seasonal setting. Noyes's use of color is precise: blue and white array, golden way, purple sea. The verse accelerates with Sawara's arrival, using shorter lines and more frequent rhymes. The phrase "Swift to learn, beneath his hand / Soon he watched his wonderland growing" suggests a rapid transformation, though the excerpt does not reveal what he paints. The relationship between the two painters is established through contrast—Tenko is "wrinkled and grey and old," while Sawara is "lissom as a cherry spray."

Shifts in Rhythm and Tone

Throughout the excerpt, Noyes varies his line lengths and rhyme schemes to signal changes in mood. The opening stanzas are measured and descriptive, with lines of seven or eight syllables. When Sawara appears, the rhythm becomes more irregular, with shorter lines and internal rhymes. The poem's dedication reveals that it was set to music by Coleridge Taylor, and the text bears traces of that collaboration: the refrain-like repetitions, the careful attention to cadence, and the way certain phrases seem designed for vocal performance. Noyes notes that the composer "preserved every cadence of every line," suggesting a close integration of word and music. Readers may notice how the poem's pace quickens during moments of action or emotion, then slows for descriptive passages.

Readers approaching this poem should attend to its musical qualities—the way Noyes uses repetition, rhyme, and rhythm to create a sense of movement. The narrative is straightforward, but the pleasure lies in the texture of the language and the vividness of the imagery. The poem's brevity (just over 5,000 words) makes it suitable for a single sitting, but its layered descriptions reward rereading.

Noyes’s painted sea and peonies carry the same quiet ache I find in the older epic of Gudrun, where tides of loyalty pull against human will. Both books understand how a landscape can hold our grief better than we can ourselves. I’ve shelved them side by side for forty years now, companions in that shared, salt-bright sorrow. Gudrun: A Mediaeval Epic — Background and Themes waits there like an old friend.