Share:
  Guess poet | Poets | Poets timeline | Isles | Contacts

Robert Laurence Binyon - The AnvilRobert Laurence Binyon - The Anvil
Work rating: Low


Burned from the ore’s rejected dross,   The iron whitens in the heat.   With plangent strokes of pain and loss   The hammers on the iron beat.   Searched by the fire, through death and dole           We feel the iron in our soul.     O dreadful Forge! if torn and bruised   The heart, more urgent comes our cry   Not to be spared but to be used,   Brain, sinew, and spirit, before we die.         Beat out the iron, edge it keen,   And shape us to the end we mean.
Source

The script ran 0.001 seconds.