A messenger, demeanour meek,
He knocks, exhausted from his run.
I smile at him for all he's done
For Dash and me these past few weeks.
A messenger, from distant sands,
Had brought me Dash's thoughts and words;
He bridged me with my blue love-bird
Through missives, from the Gryphon-lands;
A messenger, who, dress'd in red,
Does greet me in the early morn';
In grief I instantly am torn:
He bears the message, "DASH IS DEAD"