These are the libels your preachers have hurled,
Dug from the mountain-side, washed in the glen,
Servant am I or the master of men.
Steal me, I curse you; earn me, I bless you;
Grasp me and hoard me, a fiend shall possess you.
Lie for me, die for me, covet me, take me—
Angel or Devil, I am what you make me.
Falsely alluring, I shimmer and shine
Over the millions that hold me divine.
Trampling each other, they rush to adore me,