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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE GUN-CASTING, by HORACE W. STOKES
First Line: In the furnace-glare the anvils rang
Last Line: The metal bubbles beneath the ground.
Subject(s): Guns; Yale University
First Line: In the furnace-glare the anvils rang
Last Line: The metal bubbles beneath the ground.
Subject(s): Guns; Yale University
IN the furnace-glare the anvils rang
With an ever reechoing rattle and clang,
Where the hot metal gleaming
With bright flashes streaming,
As on it the ceaseless hammers sang,
Made sound everlasting.
Prepared for the casting,
The molten steel, like Vesuvian flood,
In the dusky caldron seethed and glowed.
They swung it over the gaping mould,
Massively yawning dark and cold,
And the liquid lightning,
Their tense faces brightening,
Slid over the edge, and cracking rolled
Downward. Now the iron lips
And flaming throat of the caldron drips
A fiery slaver. All around
Sputter the sparks. -- With booming sound
The metal bubbles beneath the ground.
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