Swing On Ye Bladesmiths!

J

jawilder

Joined
Jun 27, 2006
Messages
2,331
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns what e'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

--Longfellow
 
...........
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter’s voice
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night’s repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend.
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 
And whilst he sleeps all through the night,
The embers lose their light,
as he dreams of shapes forged from his mind,
and in iron made in kind,
his dreams are of what his hands can hew,
with his strong arms of sinew.

He wakes each morn with his wife,
and thanks his God for his life,
for every day his dreams become real,
in shapes forged from his red hot steel,
He knows he's blessed with a heart that's lifted,
for with God's spirit he has been gifted.

Scott Joseph Ickes
 
James_Terrio said:
I don't think there's any cool poems for us lowly grinders :( ;)
Click to expand...

For the stock removal maker!

He stands there solid, like a mighty tree,
for his stance is wide and balance steady,
his hands like stone as he leans in near,
putting steel to belt without fear.

Sparks fly as a pattern will grow,
he guides the steel to and fro,
a plunge is created as his hands push with stead,
and then down the blade to the tip laying ahead.

Slowly but surely a blade is revealed,
the knife in the steel was neatly concealed,
steel becomes dust as he approaches his goal,
Of making a knife without the use of coal!

Scott Joseph Ickes
 
Last edited:
:cool::thumbup:Scott- you are the man.
 
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