Classic Poem

Mirelle

Lady of Ventures weaving gold
From next to nothing tell me, pray,
Some novel thing to do! Unfold
Some fine employ or project bold
Or sly detour along my way!

From London town to far Cathay
The many live in drab durance:
But evermore your colors play,
Lady of Ventures, grave or gay,
Over the regions of Romance.

And some who find you sideways glance,
Nor scorn to reach thro' gates obscure
Forbidden vistas that entrance,
And glimmer with caprice and chance
To alter destinies grown dour.

Whether to some moonlit amour,
Or quest of hidden treasury,
Or valiant or outlandish lure,
They follow you, and think for sure
'Tis worth whatever the cost may be.

Thro' drear lanes of poverty,
Thro' little shops, and garrets old,
I've seen you wander truantly,
And pass tiptoe, and beckon me —
O Lady of Ventures weaving gold!