To Paint a Water LilyA green level of lily
Roofs the pond's chamber and
The flies' furious arena:
These, the two minds of this lady.
First observe the air's
That eats meat, that bullets
Or stands in space to take aim;
Others as dangerous comb the
Under the trees. There are
And death-cries everywhere
But inaudible, so the eyes
To see the colours of these
Rainbow their arcs, spark, or
Cooling like beads of molten
Through the spectrum. Think what worseis the pond-bed's matter of course;
Prehistoric bedragoned
Crawl that darkness with Latin names,
Have evolved no improvements there,
Jaws for heads, the set stare,
Ignorant of age as of hour—Now paint the long-necked
Which, deep in both worlds, can be
As a painting, trembling hardly at
Though the dragonfly alight,
Whatever horror nudge her root.
