He beats us out upon the anvil of the days And tempers us in strange and secret ways. He heats us in the passions and the joys And happiness of life—such fire employs; Then cools us in the sorrow and the pain— Heats us, and cools—then cools us once again; Till, if the iron be good, He makes us men, Or if the iron be poor, He scraps us then Perchance to try again another day To temper in some surer, sterner way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: IN ABSENCE FROM BECCHINA by CECCO ANGIOLIERI DA SIENA FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PROUD MAISIE, FR. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN by WALTER SCOTT THE OLD HOKUM BUNCOMBE by ROBERT EMMET SHERWOOD IN THE ROOM by JAMES THOMSON (1834-1882) MY LIFE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU |