Poem: Dragon

oh my dear, my dear Sir George

haven’t heard the news

that the Dragon never dies

all that’s slain is buried

and the Dragon sleeps

there in Earth’s vast belly

grown strong from the fat of Her land

and lo, here you stand

father of a Nation warring in itself

but know, the Dragon shall awaken

and English fire some day burn the land

and fallow lie the Skræling steads

emptied by the Goddess’ breath


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