THE DRAGONS By MAXWELL ARMFIELD
Reading edition
Within my black and scarlet hall
Four golden dragons live.
Their names are Richard, Timothy,
Mirandola and Paul
(These I myself did give).
Their real names no one ever says,
They are so very grand.
Their real names if you would pronounce
You must fast forty days,
With your mouth full of sand;
Then, with the names all written out,
Climb to the topmost hills,
Where you unwind from rock to rock,
With a triumphant shout,
Their strange disyllables.
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RICHARD
Richard will meet you when you come;
He is the dearest thing.
At first you might think that he was dumb,
But if you stroke his golden tail
From left to right with your finger-nail,
Richard will silently sing.
He sings of the moon and shooting stars,
And “how I wonder what you ares,”
And all that kind of thing.
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TIMOTHY
Timothy guards the electric light,
Criss-crossed like a Harlequin;
They say he is only a dragon at night,
And by day a Pandolin;
But he always looks the same to me,
At breakfast, luncheon, dinner or tea,
So I guess he’s a dragon all right.
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MIRANDOLA
Mirandola, Mirandolore,
She comes from where you’ve been before:
She comes from Caithness to the Nore,
Mirandola, Mirandolore.
Slowly, slowly, and very pale
(I think her cousin was a snail),
She lives beside the bathroom door.
She bathes in summer, in winter more:
She LOVES the cold tiles on the floor,
Mirandola, Mirandolore.
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PAUL
When mostly all are gone to bed,
And YOU sit up talking-and-talking instead,
And you’re both of you one large vacant YAWL,
From the crown of your head to your feet on the floor—
If you want to pass the kitchen door,
Then FIRST you must pass the place of Paul.
There he circles round and round,
Chasing a tail that is never found,
Guarding the kitchen without a sound.
And if you want to make friends with Paul
You had better start in right now, with ALL
The gumption you can commandeer....
For the ways of Paul are decidedly queer!
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