This poem was first published in 1925, in Selected Poems.
I covet not the West with its soulless things,
The clash and flash of battle and the blood that clings,
But I would have the East, where the lotus swings,
And butterflies go drifting with their sail-like wings.

I care not for the West with its clouded skies,
The cold and cheerless ocean, where the tempest flies,
But my heart is in the East, where the blue deep lies
Dimpled with the laughing waves that fall and rise.

I envy not the West with its thousand themes,
The grinding of the wheels, and the senseless schemes,
For gentle is the East, and my spirit seems
Walking in the wonder of a world of dreams.

I care not for the West with its wealth untold,
Where beauty is a prize that is bought and sold,
For the glory of the East when I would behold,
Is brighter than the rainbow hues, or sunset-gold.

Senseless is the West and poor in its device,
Frozen in its solitude of winter snow and ice,
But O! the East is rich with cinnamon and spice,
And the flowers are always blooming, like the rose of Paradise.

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