204 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
L’ALCHIMIE DE DOULEUR 
 
ONE with his ardour makes thee tender, 
 Another clothes thee in his grief, 
 Nature !  Saith one :  “ The falling leaf ! ” 
The other :  “ Praise October splendour ! ” 
Thou unknown Hermes that assists 
 Me, before whom I crouch and tremble ;   
 Thou mak’st me Midas to resemble, 
The saddest of all alchemists !   
 
For gold within my crucible 
Turns iron ;  and heaven turns to hell 
 In cloudland’s ghostly napery 
I find a corpse—that I loved well 
 And in celestial gardens I 
 Build mightiest sarcophagi