OVER the western sea, hither from Niphon come,
Courteous, the swart-cheek'd two-sworded envoys,
Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive,
Ride to-day through Manhattan.
I do not know whether others behold what I behold,
In the procession, along with the nobles of Asia, the errand-
Bringing up the rear, hovering above, around, or in the ranks