Today I saw the dragon-fly, come from the wells where he did lie.
An inner impulse rent the veil, of his old husk: from head to tail
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail, he dried his wings: like gauze they grew;
Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew,
a living flash of light he flew.                           
The Dragon-fly, by Alfred Lord Tennyson

© Claire Dunning 2012