Hard Hearts Not Alike

A heart of gold too often finds
A catch in silver hearts inclined
Upon those threads of copper bold,
So still, the hearts around them mold.

What game is this, that riches play
Which falls upon a squandered day?

This jest of hammers, formless sheets
So precious ink, would never meet?

And yet, they sit in honest den
Where jewelers meddle, thieves again,
To forge for patrons, dull and brass,
So homely come, soft glowing pass.