All ancient chemists studied alchemy. The baser metals each in ferment rolled With crunching weight to grotesque shapes for old, Odd crucibles where splashed an acid sea, Transmuting toward the precious, frothing. He Who captured multitudes with secrets, told To all in joy, had ample palms for gold. The change remains unmade: evasive key! Yet you, beloved, are an alchemist: No idle dreams of gold confuse your mind, Nor sordidness enmeshes you, distraught: Your elevated spirit, beauty kissed, Transmutes my meager mental ore, confined In leaden lustre-lack, to gold, fine wrought. |