For Lura Blackburn
Dragons love the world in rain.
They crawl among the watery feet
Of its sheeted cliffs in coats of chain,
Catching glimpses of blazing scales
Through shifting pockets in the discreet
Grey rain. They love to stand and look
On Saracens locked in holy wars,
Waving crimson scimitars.
More do they love to twist their tails
And stare in through a window-pane
At a man bent over a printed book,
Drinking from a crystal flagon.
But nothing is like the dragon’s joy
At seeing a portrait of a dragon
Crawling in rain, catching sight,
Through mist, of blazing scales that stain
The watery cliffs, watching the fray
Of Saracens with scimitars bleeding,
Staring, in ecstasies that pain,
Through blurred windows on a man reading,
On portraits of dragons who crawl away
Helpless with wonder in the rain.
Rain
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