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.
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