The Poetry Corner

On A Piece Of Silver

By John Frederick Freeman

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!