The poem
To Paint a Water Lily
A green level of lily leaves Roofs the pond's chamber and paves
The flies' furious arena: study These, the two minds of this lady.
First observe the air's dragonfly That eats meat, that bullets by
Or stands in space to take aim; Others as dangerous comb the hum
Under the trees. There are battle-shouts And death-cries everywhere hereabouts
But inaudible, so the eyes praise To see the colours of these flies
Rainbow their arcs, spark, or settle Cooling like beads of molten metal
Through the spectrum. Think what worse is the pond-bed's matter of course;
Prehistoric bedragoned times Crawl that darkness with Latin names,
Have evolved no improvements there, Jaws for heads, the set stare,
Ignorant of age as of hour— Now paint the long-necked lily-flower
Which, deep in both worlds, can be still As a painting, trembling hardly at all
Though the dragonfly alight, Whatever horror nudge her root.