The Poetry Corner

The Blacksmith. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

By William Lisle Bowles

How cheerful in the winter's night, As down the lane I stray; The blacksmith's forge shoots out its light, And shines across the way! The smith his labouring bellows blows, And now his stroke repeats; Beats the red iron, as it glows, And shapes it as he beats. While, flash! the frequent sparkles fly, And tongs are hissing red; Content and cheerful industry Sweeten his daily bread.