Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE AXE, by PAUL FORT



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE AXE, by            
First Line: To the soul there is no sound that chimes more dolorously, no sound
Last Line: To the old chopper of oaks the robin blithely sings.
Subject(s): Axes; Forests; Soul; Hatchets; Woods


To the soul there is no sound that chimes more dolorously, no sound of more
severe, of more religious tone -- sudden it holds you mute, it turns you to a
stone -- than the sonorous shock of steel against a tree.

I love to hear that sound where conquering death intrudes. Yes, I dearly love to
hear, seeking the distant sun, the dull blows of the axe resound with muffled
tone, amid the silence vast of dim and sombre woods.

Closing my eyes I see, as of the soul I dream, the fatal woodsman strike. No
rancour speeds his blows. Taciturn he strikes, he reckons up his woes before his
hut of logs, where ravening flame doth gleam.

He strikes. . . . Thus round him death, with axe-blade rapier-keen, strikes,
strikes, and strikes again, with strokes no rancour brings. May he gain some
trifling joy 'mid such excess of woes! 'Mid dull, resounding blows with friendly
voice serene

to the old chopper of oaks the robin blithely sings.





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