The first canto opens with an exquisite description of an autumn sunset and of the leaves falling from the trees at the foot of Mount Aso.  Then we hear a temple bell ringing in a distant grove, and see a timid maiden steal out weeping from a hut in the extremity of the village to gaze anxiously in the direction of the volcano, for her father left her three days before to go hunting and has not returned.  Poor little White Aster fears some harm may have befallen her sire, and, although she creeps back into the hut and kindles a fire to make tea, her heads turns at every sound in the hope that her father has come back at last.  Stealing out once more only to see wild geese fly past and the rain-clouds drift across the heavens, White Aster shudders and feels impelled to start in quest of the missing man.  She, therefore, dons a straw cloak and red bamboo hat, and, although night will soon fall, steals down the village street, across the marsh, and begins to climb the mountain.

  Here the steep path winds with a swift ascent
  Toward the summit:—­the long grass that grew
  In tufts upon the slopes, shrivelled and dry,
  Lay dead upon her path;—­hushed was the voice
  Of the blithe chafers.—­Only sable night
  Yawned threatening from the vale.

While she is searching, the rain ceases and the clouds part, but no trace of her missing father does she find.  Light has gone and darkness has already invaded the solitude, when White Aster descries a faint red gleam through the trees and hears the droning voice of a priest chanting his prayers.  Going in the direction of light and sound, White Aster soon approaches a ruined temple, standing in the midst of a grove of cypress and camphor trees, amid bleached bones and mouldering graves overhung by weeping-willows.

Her light footfall on the broken steps, falling upon the ear of the recluse, makes him fancy some demon is coming to tempt him, so seizing a light he thrusts it out of the door, tremblingly bidding the “fox ghost” begone.  In the East foxes being spirits of evil and having the power to assume any form they wish, the priest naturally takes what seems a little maiden for a demon.  But, when he catches a glimpse of White Aster’s lovely innocent face and hears her touching explanation, he utterly changes his opinion, muttering that she must belong to some noble family, since her eyebrows are like twin “half-moons.”

  “’Tis clear she comes of noble family: 
  Her eyebrows are as twin half-moons:  her hair
  Lies on her snowy temples, like a cloud: 
  In charm of form she ranks with Sishih’s self,
  That pearl of loveliness, the Chinese Helen.”