When they embed me in fire
I’m not in great ire
When with a hammer they pound me
I don’t place any plea
When I’m drawn into a wire
I don’t a bit inquire
When I’m flattened into a sheet
I admit and bear the treat
All this I undergo well
Because I’d be turned to a Jewel
A pretty girl to adorn proudly
But when I’m weighed, frankly
Speaking, I hate to be weighed
Against the tiny grains and thus degraded!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Gold's Rant by chandra thiagarajan )
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