'TIS the Tamer of Iron, Who smites from the prime, And the song of whose smiting Hath thundered through time. Like a mighty Enchanter Mid demons he stands -- Mid Terrors infernal, The slaves of his hands. As a pine-bough in winter, All fringed with wild hair, His arm too is shaggy, His arm too is bare. And the bars on his anvil, They struggle and groan Like a sin being fought with, That's bred in the bone; But against them he knits his Invincible thews, The Wrestler, the Hero, The Man That Subdues. As a crag looking down on The floods in their ire, He looms through the spray of His fountains of fire. Is he human and mortal, With frailties like mine, Or a demigod rather, Of lineage divine? For the dread things of Nature Crouch low in his gaze: The Fire doth his bidding; The Iron obeys. He is Voland, great Voland, Whose furnaces roared As he fashioned for Siegfried The wonderful Sword. "Whatsoever is mighty," He sang in his glee, "Twixt hammer and anvil Is fashioned by me." And he made the bright blade from His rapture and joy, Being one with the Gods who Create and destroy: The Gods at whose signal The fuel was hurled On the fires of the forges Whence issued the World. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTRY SCHOOLROOM, ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE GARDEN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS; SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PROMETHEUS BOUND: PROMETHEUS THE TEACHER OF MEN by AESCHYLUS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 8. THEE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |