The Dragonfly
When the heat of the summer
Made drowsy the land,
A dragonfly came
And sat on my hand,
With its blue jointed body,
And wings of spun glass
It lit on my fingers
As though they were grass.
—Eleanor Farjeon
The Dragonfly
When the heat of the summer
Made drowsy the land,
A dragonfly came
And sat on my hand,
With its blue jointed body,
And wings of spun glass
It lit on my fingers
As though they were grass.
—Eleanor Farjeon
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