Alchemy by Joyce Kilmer — Read

I sang two little songs one day, / I sang them for a lady's pleasure, / I took her praise for wreath of bay, / Her smile for largess beyond measure.

I sang out in the market square / And most folk could not understand; / One who by chance was passing there / Dropped down some silver in my hand.

Now since the songs I gave you, Sweet, / Have turned to silver fair and gleaming, / For your pleasaunce as is most meet / The silver turns to song and dreaming.