Smith Grief
K. Weigl
A great smith is grief,
His hammer is hard,
With flickering fire
His hearth is hot.
His bellows is blown
By mad stinging storm
Of fierce raging forces.
He hammers the hearts
And he welds them with weighty
And blasting blows into
Tight hardy texture.
Great, great is Smith Grief.
No frost can fret,
No rust corrode,
No wind lay waste
What Smith Grief has welded.