Classic Poem

Look at the eyes look from my tail!
What other eyes could look so well?
A peacock asks a nightingale.

And how my feathers twist the sun!
Confess that no one, no, no one
Has ever seen such colour spun.

Who would not fall in ecstasy
Before the gemmed enamelry
Of ruby-topaz-sapphire me?

When my proud tail parades its fan,
You, little bird, are merely an
Anachronism in its van.

Let me advise that you be wise,
Avoid the vision of my eyes.
And then the nightingale replies.