nations blessed by ages long, for love of gold at last have fell
the seeds of self-deceit are sown with ploughs of golden metal cast
and fields of blood and woe are mown with swords forged in a golden blast
of all who seek to find the grail there is not one who’ll live to tell
from mountains pure of basest lead no precious speck of ore to sell
yet silver, sonorous and strong, peals long a bell of blameless past
and would that bonds of friendship were with strands of silver strong held fast
for silver as a mirror shined will secrets of betrayal tell
so give me not your yellow discs that usury and lies will varnish
hang not about my neck a chain that yokes me to a dray of fools
for gold is naught but evil magic, caster of deceitful spells
in silver’s truth I will be cloaked and wear with pride its tell-tale tarnish
a metal hard and pure I need not soft nor fickle for my tools
and all I ask as my reward: to hear the angels' silver bells
steve blackey
