Orange-hued are the Odalisque's henna-dyed fingers,
English girls' lips are encarnadine;
A rubicund flame round the toper's nose lingers—
But I'm blest if they rival the blush of Ruthene.
Pink huntsman, gules ensign, deep flush of the sunset,
Cardinal's scarlet, "red" gold have I seen,
With red ruin, red rhubarb, red herring—but none set
My iris afire as does red-hot Ruthene.
The quest, though, is simpler of Roc's egg or Sangreal,
Easier to fashion a flying machine,