Classic Poem

So he was buried in vision, starving for three days and three nights:
But on the third night, he climbed a hill, where stood one lonely pine …
He sank beneath this, awaiting death …

“I would die,” he moaned, “I would put away the burden …
O beautiful Mother, dark Death, take me to your heart!”

But as he lay prone, he became silent,
And opening his eyes, he beheld the stars …
And he knew the hour had come.

He arose slowly, and turned:
And there stood his Mother, as in life:
The grey hair about the temples,
The lines about the mouth,
The sorrow of those much-experienced eyes. . . .

She looked at him, beseeching:
As though she said. “I have gone to much trouble for you:
And none shall love you as I love you!”

He drew his sword slowly: his heart beating in his throat …

“Can it be,” he said, “that a Dragon can be so beautiful?”