Algy Rides a Dragon as Swift as the Wind

Algy doesn’t like St. George’s Day, or beastliness to dragons on any occasion. Dragons are Algy’s friends, for without them, who would breathe fire into the sunset?

He remembered the Chinese nursery rhyme, and went for a very special ride:

          As the sun came up, a ball of red.
          I followed my friend wherever he led.
          He thought his fast horse would leave me behind
          But I rode a dragon as swift as the wind!

[Algy gratefully acknowledges the source of the image of this particular dragon, in a photo by wisefly on flickr, adapted under a Creative Commons licence.]

Algy Contemplates the Sunset and Evening Star

          Sunset and evening star,
                And one clear call for me!
          And may there be no moaning of the bar,
                When I put out to sea

Of course Algy is still much too young to think about crossing the bar or putting out to sea in Tennyson’s sense, but he appreciates the poem, and he loves to sit at the top of his tree as the sun sets, and gaze at the evening star.

[From Crossing the Bar by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.]

Wavelets Make Perpetual Music at Algy’s Feet

After the alarms and excursions of the fire, Algy felt in need of a very much wetter and more tranquil environment. He sat quietly on a low rock at the edge of the loch, and watched the water rippling in the evening light.

          I stand, as evening shadows fall,
          And marvel at the matchless scene,
          While wavelets make, with rhythmic beat,
          Perpetual music at my feet.

[From Evening on Lake Como by John Lawson Stoddard.]

Algy Thanks the Firefighters

During the night, the fire crossed over the rocky ridge and started to sweep across the moorland near Algy’s home. But the firefighters battled on, and by the early afternoon of the second day the flames were nearly extinguished. Algy flew over to thank the firefighters, as they beat out the very last line of fire.

Algy Keeps Watch while Part of the Sky Burns

The hill was on fire again, for the third time this Spring, but this time it was burning ferociously. Algy kept watch through the night, while the firefighters beat their way stoically across the other side of the steep ridge.

          The fire was so fierce,
          So red, so gray, so yellow
          That, along with the land,
          It burned part of the sky
          Which stayed black in that corner
          For years

[From A Small Story about the Sky by Alberto Ríos.]

Algy Enjoys the Loveliest of Trees

The cold North wind brought clearer skies, so Algy was able to enjoy some cool afternoon sunshine, watching the cherry blossoms dancing against the blue.

          Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
          Is hung with bloom along the bough,
          And stands about the woodland ride
          Wearing white for Eastertide.

[From Loveliest of Trees in A.E. Housman’s cycle of poems A Shropshire Lad, published in 1896.]

On Easter Day, Algy went on an Easter egg hunt, and was delighted to find an unusual and beautiful egg …

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Algy Flies into the Western Waves of Ebbing Day

Suddenly, after a long, grey day of dense Scotch mist:

           The western waves of ebbing day
           Rolled o’er the glen their level way;
           Each purple peak, each flinty spire,
           Was bathed in floods of living fire.

[From the First Canto (XI) of The Lady of the Lake by Sir Walter Scott. An 1883 edition of the entire narrative poem is available at Project Gutenberg.]

Algy Out-does the Sparkling Waves in Glee

Algy had heard good news from his friends, and so – like Wordsworth’s daffodils – he danced.

Algy in Pensive Mood

Sitting in pensive mood among the dancing daffodils, Algy was inevitably reminded of Wordsworth’s famous poem:

           The waves beside them danced; but they
           Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
           A poet could not but be gay,
           In such a jocund company:
           I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
           What wealth the show to me had brought:

           For oft, when on my couch I lie
           In vacant or in pensive mood,
           They flash upon that inward eye
           Which is the bliss of solitude;
           And then my heart with pleasure fills,
           And dances with the daffodils.

[From I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth.]