Explore "Seraphis" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
He tasted dragon's blood From the dark dragon tree, In those far islands where the mood Is faery-like and free.
With cinnamon and nard His strange gay clothes were sweet, His lips were fanciful with fard, Red flames played 'round his feet.
Sharp dancing pointed flames, Detached as butterflies, He called them all by secret names, They were his ecstasies.
No love, no maiden bright Might woo him from his swoon, For he had tasted strange delight In lands beyond the moon.