The unhurried Summer replays a scene
Timeless as a remembered dream,
Of gauzy wings in fading light,
A dragonfly in darting flight.
As if from unknown, ancient skies,
With deadly skill and emerald eyes,
The dragonfly primeval wends,
To stricken prey, it nothing lends.
What graceful shadows, if shadows cast
Such living forms from aeons past;
What lineage from a Coal-Age stock ‒
Swift blue image of that lost epoch.
From dawn to dusk by stream or pool,
Between rival combats over aerial rule,
This slender insect of impressive size
Hawks to and fro for lesser flies.
Only when, with enfeebled Sun,
Summer’s course is nearly run,
Dread hunter of the watery plains,
It wanders loose and resplendent wanes.
