The Metallurgist

Master smith, forgeman, what do you make today? What great image from the past Fashion you with love from iron out of common clay? Whose profile proudly you cast? I see the roaring fire, and hear the hot bellow blow See the thongs the metal grip The bulging muscles like mountains in ebb and flow The hammer firm as tightened lip. A masterpiece will come from this, an icon for the eyes Man shall behold and feel uplift The genius brings us closer yet, it's almost paradise Strike the iron now and be swift. Strike the iron for now its hot, mould it to your taste Strike, for striking makes it hot And tardiness the energy banging only will waste Mould man's image again, in this spot.