Friendship's Sonnet

Art thou a spade that digs in my quarry?
to strike rich of the mineral amity?
Wilt thou fetch it and stack it on lorries?
to sell it for the things that one fancies?
Thou art rich in the sense that I fear thee,
for my doubts overthrow my true feelings,
And mine ore hath been sold by the plenty,
So of my worth, it seems to be peeling.
‘Tis thy friendship that kindles affection,
Lit in this quarry, once ruby, now coal;
Using genius against my reflection,
to ignite fires within my bleak soul.
Hark! I am mirthful of thy firm recourse:
Thou hast burned my dark into good resource.