On what distant corpse or mob
We found you with joyous sob?
Were you found on mountain spire?
Forged were you in dragon's fire?
And what boulder did we move?
To steal thee - did ill behove.
And when our hearts deep did beat,
Nearly dropped thee at our feet!
What the price, so rare a jewel?
Man pays for you, such a fool!
What the cost, just have your fill,
Must go for at least nine mill.
When the Gods lay down their might,
And reward those who show no spite,
You are gained totally free,
Did he who built all Med carve thee?
Dragon Crystal, dense yet light,
Gaze on you with awestruck sight.
In the fount we will anoint,
Gain the precious practice point.
Altered from The Tiger by William Blake. The original can be found at www.emule.com/poetry/dispoem.cgi?poem=80 so check it out! Bon appetit.