On the passing of wealth

A cold and sharp December dusk it came
descending from the sky like silvered dust;
descending from the sky like argent rain.
It fell upon the land with measured lust.

So slowly, steady, calm, controlled and sure
the hail fell.  Imagine our surprise
to find that it was formed of metal pure
and precious!  We could not believe our eyes.

The morning next we danced among the drifts
and frolicked in the dry metallic snow.
We blessed the sky and prayed for more such gifts.

The clouds above felt took for granted, so
a spear of gold emerged then, sharp and bright.
It melted up the snow before our sight.