Poems . MISCELLANEOUS THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. Under a spreading chestnut treeThe village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he,With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny armsAre strong- as iron bands. 252 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan;His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whateer he can,And looks the w7hole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night,You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton
Poems . MISCELLANEOUS THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. Under a spreading chestnut treeThe village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he,With large and sinewy hands ; And the muscles of his brawny armsAre strong- as iron bands. 252 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan;His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whateer he can,And looks the w7hole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night,You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell,When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door;They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar,And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys;He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughters voiceSinging in the village choir, And it makes his heart re
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Keywords: ., bookauthorlongfellowhenrywadswo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850
