"Lo, the bright air alive with dragonflies, With brittle wings aquiver, and great eyes Piloting crimson bodies, slender and gay. I aimed at one, and struck it, and it lay Broken and lifeless, with fast-fading dyes. Then my soul sickened with a sudden pain And horror, at my own careless cruelty. That where all things are cruel I had slain A creature whose sweet life it is to fly: Like beasts that prey with bloody ciaw: Nay, they Must slay to live, but what excuse had I?"