Lord Byron (1788–1824)

NOW overhead a rainbow, bursting through

The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea,

Resting its bright base on the quivering blue;

And all within its arch appeared to be

Clearer than that without; and its wide hue

Waxed broad and waving, like a banner free,

Then changed like to a bow that’s bent, and then

Forsook the dim eyes of those shipwrecked men.

It changed, of course; a heavenly chameleon,

The airy child of vapor and the sun,

Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermilion,

Baptized in molten gold, and swathed in dun,

Glittering like crescents o’er a Turk’s pavilion,

And blending every color into one.