The Riddle of Gold

Thro' all my life since early days
In have looked on with sheer amaze,
   Appalled, astonished to behold
   This muddles world's mad quest for gold.
To have it is to own the earth;
To lack it is to know the dearth
   Of all earth's gifts that men hold dear,
   And walk in need with cold, gaunt Fear.

But we can't eat it,
   We won't share it;
Wth joy greet it,
   But don't wear it;
As shelter, warmth or food it can't be used.
The seers blame it 
   For all sorrow;
Yet men claim it,
   And men borrow,
Beg, steal or slay for it, be it refused.

Men dig it up from deep,dark holes,
And, just to own it, pawn their souls,
   And, when their souls are well in pawn
   (So I've observed since reason's dawn)
They take this stuff they've found -- or stole --
And shove it in another hole --
   Some sealed and vaulted chamber, which
   Thereafter keeps them wondrous rich.

And he who keeps
   The yellow stuff
May own vast heaps,
   But ne'er enough.
Man has lost grace and bucketsful of gore of it . . .
   But I despise
      The dross, in blame
   For all earth's lies
      And all man's shame --
But -- all the same --
      I'd like --
         A --
            Little --
               More of it.