To the Master of the Forge (A Poem)

Break me into bits and heap

Them all upon the flame—

And stir me up to white until

The dirt is burn’d away.

Pour me out into your cast,

And shape me with your might—

And fold me on your forge, with life

In ev’ry hammer smite.

Fashion me into a lance

Of iron for your hand.

Or pound me out, into a plow,

To rent the barren land.

Let me brush the air or let

Me part the earth below—

Let me serve the harvest, long,

Or fit the warring bow.

From the earth you drew me, make

Me pure through heaven’s fire—

For in this furnace I’ve found birth,

Upon a fun’ral pyre.