Under the mighty Mountain spread
On a yielding-scented feathered bed
Afird the Dwarf laid his weary head
And sleeping, he fell and dreamed
of a
Mithril vein flowing free,
alike a shimmering silver sea;
After which a boat sat floating
On moon-lit waves remaining
For one who would soon go sailing;
To a tower marvellous of pearly white
With many a
stair in its lofty height
And climbing to the tower's tops
Where fell soft green raindrops
And a maiden beneath a golden canopy
With eyes of mysterious, elegant ebony
Her hair and beard were of lustrous blues-
silver winding around in a misty dew;
And she beckoned with a glacé smile
And he, forthcoming to lips that so beguile
bent his greying head to receive a kiss,
when suddenly he heard a
dragon hiss
And waking in his scented bed
beneath the mounted overhead
he heard praise fall from the worm's tongue
and feeling humble, albeit shamefully stung
he longed for it to have been the maiden's
kiss
and not the dragon's gracious wish,
that woke him from his dreaming bliss.
Gracias,
@Chrysophylax Dives
(for the Dark Side)
