Crucible

And when I see a phantom, frail and wan, Traverse the swarming picture that is Paris, It ever seems as though the delicate thing Trod with soft steps towards a cradle new.

And then I wonder, seeing the twisted form, How many times must workmen change the shape Of boxes where at length such limbs are laid? These eyes are wells brimmed with a million tears, Crucibles where the cooling metal pales, Mysterious eyes that are strong charms to him Whose lifelong nurse has been austere disaster.

Two.

The lovesick vestal of the old Frasciti, Princess of Thalia, alas, whose name Only the prompter knows, and he is dead: Bygone celebrities that in bygone days The Tivoli o'ershadowed in their bloom.

So currently we're targeting early 2027 for pouring gold bars.

The guys sent me pictures last night of the Phonuses and the Crucibles being packed and stacked ready to go to site.

So pretty much on schedule there.

I think, you know, we've already started cutting our stockpiles across to the rum pad.