The Blacksmith's Craft
A poem by Patrick Gill
The clink of chain on horn and heel;
the glowing fire licks coal and steel.
A white-hot bar struck dead and fused,
Another link, the chain, the blacksmith mused
would lock a thief, enwrap the crime.
Blaze of heat, the bellows blows.
Sweat drops sizzle, the anvil hot;
An ax is forged, a sharp edge goes
the grindstone ground out burr and spot:
Oaks fall down, the rings count time.
Hammered hammer hammers out hot hammer
'prentice practiced, pound out damner
fuller, flatter, flaming, fluxing,
dip'd in oil to keep from rusting
fit for dresser, stone of lime
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