ON A PIECE OF SILVER

So! the fierce acid licks the silver clean,

Unwonted plain the superscription's seen

Round the cleared head; the metal, virgin-bright,

Shines a mild Moon to the Sun candle-light.

And in these floating stains, this evil murk,

All your change-crowded, moment-histories lurk,

Voluble Silverling! Dost yield me now

Your chance-illumined record, and allow

Prying of idle eyes?... you came a boon

To men as weary as any the weak moon

Shines on but cheers not; you were life in death;

Almost a God to give the prize of breath,

Almost a God to give the prize of joy,

Almost a God — but God! the veriest toy

Child's fingers break, from death to buy back life,

Turn the keen trouble of grief's eager knife,

Or sense-confounded hearts heal of the ancient strife.

O Coin that men have toiled for, lacked and mourned,

Sold life for and sold honour, won and scorned;

O Coin that oft hast been a spinning Fate,

Yet impotent her bitterness to abate;

O Coin that Love contemns, reckoning nought

( But with you, ah, Love's best is sold and bought ) —

Heart of the harlot, you; the Judas blood

Hell's devils leech on; you the Price of God!