Why is there not a dragon in the sea
With orange fins and purple fangs,
Of monstrous length and mighty girth,
Whose spume and opalescent Jet could be
A blazing fright where water clangs
Along the coasts of Earth? 

Through fire importuning the moon to thrust
Its scythe at last to garner flame
Cold phoenix throngs could hover.
The world should be a ball of golden dust;
Each of its creatures then might claim
A more resplendent lover. 

There could be seed of crystal set adrift
To angle space with glassy feather,
A boundless comb of light.
The re could be hounds and angels, lean and
That rushed with torches, all together.
Till dark was vanquished quite. 

This poem originally ran in the July 7, 1926 issue of the magazine.