Eugene Lee-Hamilton (1845–1907)

FOURTEEN small broider’d berries on the hem

Of Circe’s mantle, each of magic gold;

Fourteen of lone Calypso’s tears that roll’d

Into the sea, for pearls to come to them;

Fourteen clear signs of omen in the gem

With which Medea human fate foretold;

Fourteen small drops, which Faustus, growing old,

Craved of the Fiend, to water Life’s dry stem.

It is the pure white diamond Dante brought

To Beatrice; the sapphire Laura wore

When Petrarch cut it sparkling out of thought;

The ruby Shakespeare hew’d from his heart’s core;

The dark deep emerald that Rossetti wrought

For his own soul, to wear for evermore.