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To the Opal
To the Opal

Oh, gem of beauty! borrowing from the day
All hues to crown thee in thy fleeting grace,
Why should a trace of sadness find a place,
Where all is brilliant, beautiful, and gay?

Thy sister gems endure, but thou dost feel
The touch of dissolution on thee steal,
Wasting thy brightness in a slow decay.
Thou art befitting type of human souls,

That in the cold, the glittering, fleeting dwell;
Whose hopes the present fill, whom sense controls,
And earth binds down with strong delusive spell.

Things that in use decay. Oh, dying gem!
Passing though fair, burning thyself away,
While we bewildered gaze, thy likeness is to them.

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