THE ALCHEMIST 



He who furtively would spy 

 On black art in some dim place, 



May, in frankness of the sky 

 And in openness of space, 



Watch the moon stand forth when she 



Works her heavenly alchemy. 



I have seen gold metal rim 

 Molten silver from her glance; 



Nuggets burnished like the sun 

 Lose their sultry arrogance ; 



Seen her change my brave coin to 



Argent currencies she knew. 



Minted out of marigold, 



Florins lay, a lustrous store; 



Burning poppies turned to cold 

 Drachmas of less precious ore; 



And a primrose dimly lit. 



Was transformed to silver bit. 



[247] 



