I am known
          by my heart’s green core
          as emerald.

          I am wrong
          in a beggar’s hand
          or a child’s.

          Out of the sun
          I rob that glint
          no wind can douse.

          Crumpled and dark
          unborn I gleam in the Earth’s
          swung gloom.

          Hone me, only
          a diamond can
          wear me, only
          a simple Queen:

          Or a man to be slain
          for powdering by grain
          in a sachet of green
          to soothe his brain.