THE QUESTION.

WILL you have me gold or steel,
Love, whose crucible is here?
Will you have me brave, or feel
Fate's anguish, dear?

Am I virtuous--who knows?
If I glitter in the fire
Harder, whiter, as it glows
At your desire?

Or yet worthier if I quail
As the dark dross melts again
If I sometimes nearly fail
For very pain?

While the steel is growing white
It grows harder, whiteness near:
While the gold is growing bright
It softens, dear.

Say then, will you have forth cast,
When the tale of fire is told,
From your crucible at last
Fine steel, or gold?