The stone had its birth in the nurturing earth.

Its home in the heart of the main,

From the coraline caves it was tossed by the waves

On the breast of an aureate plain;

And the spirits who dwell in the nethermost hell

Stored fire in its bosom of white;

The sylphs of the air made it gracious and fair

With the blue of the firmament's height.

The dull gnomes I ween, gave it glittering sheen.

Till yellow as gold it became:

The nymphs of the sea made the opal to be

A beacon of emerald flame.

The many tints glow, they come and they go

At bidding of spirits abhorr'd,

When one ray is bright, in the bosom of white,

Its hue tells the fate of its lord.

For yellow hints wealth, and blue meaneth health,

While green forbodes passing of gloom,

But beware of the red, 'tis an omen of dread,

Portending disaster and doom.