Extract from "The Blacksmith's Night"

Primeval Night! infinitude of gloom!
My prayer fulfilled, yet brings it no release:
O for the deeper shadow of the tomb,
Its dreamless peace,
Where the last throb of my sad heart may cease!

Yet thrills that voice again the murky air,
Never a midnight but there came a morn!
Up from the dungeon now of thy despair,
For thou wert born
To conquer sorrow, and all fear to scorn!

To thee is granted to behold how Truth
Links the strong worker with the happy skies,
In Care's deep furrows plants immortal youth,
And gives the prize
Of endless glory to the bravely wise!

Centre thou art and Soul of a domain
Vast as thy utmost wish could e'er desire;
Struggle! the Spirit never strives in vain;
Can ne'er expire;
Up for thy sceptre, take thy throne of fire!

For man is regal when his strength is tried;
When spirit wills, all matter must obey;
Sweeps the resistless mandate like a tide
Away, away,
Till earth and heaven feel the potent sway!

Now as this rayless gloom aside I fling,
Thy realm of action spreading on the view,
Calls to the sooty Blacksmith — be a king!
Thy reign renew;
Grasping thy mace again, arise and do!

And as the massive hammer thunders down,
Shaping the stubborn iron to the plan,
Know that each stroke adds lustre to the crown,
And yon wide span
Of gazing planets shout — behold a Man!

A glorious Man! and thy renown shall be
Borne by the winds and waters through all time;
While there's a keel to carve it on the sea
From clime to clime,
Or God ordains that idleness is crime!