A fanciful idea, no more than that,
An impractical scheme,
A crazy fad, a dream,
One which will nothing tangible begat.
Another rainbow: chase it, chase it down!
Now grasp it in your hand,
It slips away like sand,
And leaves you with a foolís cap for a crown.
Still looking for perpetual motion;
Still searching vaguely round the chess board
For that extra square;
Still dreaming and playing,
Mad scientist playing,
And hunting things you know arenít really there.
One day! One day indeed, the magic stone
Youíll hold clenched in your fist:
O foolish Alchemist!
What chimeras your fantasies have grown.
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