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!