Coin of the Realm

Slave clouds serve your carriage tonight,    
Oh pale goddess of zenith gold,    
And cortege like fair Aurora's light    
Beyond the crystal cirrus cold...    
   
And denser banks from time to time,
Oh goddess of the lofty frost,    
Whisper the drifting skies you climb    
Before your amber's priceless cost.    
   
Such coinage spent by all your beams,    
Oh goddess of the midnight hour,    
Purchase the magistracy of dreams    
And all your beauty they empower...    
   
And when the skies anon will clear,    
Your slave will be...a sonneteer!