The Art of Creation
Fire, fire, burning bright
The blacksmith toils in dead of night
Her bellows sing the sacred rite
Of journey fresh begun.
Hammer, hammer, softened steel
The craftsman's dream the forge makes real
Her anvil rings like church bell's peal
Until the work is done.
Gather, gather, 'pon the morn
The hero's spoils are thusly borne
Her victory from hardship torn
At last the battle's won.
The blacksmith toils in dead of night
Her bellows sing the sacred rite
Of journey fresh begun.
Hammer, hammer, softened steel
The craftsman's dream the forge makes real
Her anvil rings like church bell's peal
Until the work is done.
Gather, gather, 'pon the morn
The hero's spoils are thusly borne
Her victory from hardship torn
At last the battle's won.
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