Poems (Linn)/Song of the Chain
SONG OF THE CHAIN.
THE smithy stood by his furnace fire Forging an iron chain;The ruddy flames leaped high and higher, And many a song sang he. A song of love and a song of pain,A song of passion and desire, Of hope, of Heaven, and joy to be.
The farmer said, "Forge me a chain, To bind my wheel, as from the field I bring the summer's golden yield;—The happy harvest's wealth of grain."
"Forge me a chain," the seaman said, "With which to hold my good ship fast, When death is walking in the blast,And storms are raging overhead."
"Forge me a chain," the builder cried, "A strong and long and mighty chain, To bear the heaviest weight and strain,And let each link be thick and wide."
The mourner said, "Forge me a chain, A small, light chain to mark the place Where, wrapped in peaceful death's embrace,The tired heart forgets its pain."
"Forge me a chain," the woodman said, "To yoke my oxen to the load, When homeward through the forest roadI bring my heavy-laden sled."
"Forge me a chain," the warden said, "A chain to bind my prisoner sure, A chain that shall for years endure,Till you are old and I am dead."
The smithy stood by his glowing fire, Forging an iron chain;The ruddy flames leaped high and higher, And many a song sang he. A song of love and a song of pain,A song of passion and desire, Of hope, of Heaven, and joy to be.