And laughed, for then I could bite into heart
Of that miner,
That miner, gaunt, naked and strong,
That took me from my dull and sullen sleep,
And hurried me, all black, and covered with dross like the barnacles on a ship,
Into the golden presence of him the bright, beautiful sun-god.
But I was not destined to bite into the heart of that miner:
And I was hurried then to the smithy,
Where stood the stalwort blacksmith leaning on his sledge:
That blacksmith, with his leathern apron and arm that would fell a buffalo.