Analysis of The Song Of Iron



Not yet hast Thou sounded
Thy clangorous music,
Whose strings are under the mountains…
Not yet hast Thou spoken
The blooded, implacable Word…

But I hear in the Iron singing -
In the triumphant roaring of the steam and pistons pounding -
Thy barbaric exhortation…
And the blood leaps in my arteries, unreproved,
Answering Thy call…
All my spirit is inundated with the tumultuous passion of Thy Voice,
And sings exultant with the Iron,
For now I know I too am of Thy Chosen…

Oh fashioned in fire -
Needing flame for Thy ultimate word -
Behold me, a cupola
Poured to Thy use!

Heed not my tremulous body
That faints in the grip of Thy gauntlet.
Break it… and cast it aside…
But make of my spirit
That dares and endures
Thy crucible…
Pour through my soul
Thy molten, world-whelming song.

… Here at Thy uttermost gate
Like a new Mary, I wait…

Charge the blast furnace, workman…
Open the valves -
Drive the fires high…
(Night is above the gates).

How golden-hot the ore is
From the cupola spurting,
Tossing the flaming petals
Over the silt and furnace ash -
Blown leaves, devastating,
Falling about the world…

Out of the furnace mouth -
Out of the giant mouth -
The raging, turgid, mouth -
Fall fiery blossoms
Gold with the gold of buttercups
In a field at sunset,
Or huskier gold of dandelions,
Warmed in sun-leavings,
Or changing to the paler hue
At the creamy hearts of primroses.

Charge the converter, workman -
Tired from the long night?
But the earth shall suck up darkness -
The earth that holds so much…
And out of these molten flowers,
Shall shape the heavy fruit…

Then open the valves -
Drive the fires high,
Your blossoms nurturing.
(Day is at the gates
And a young wind…)

Put by your rod, comrade,
And look with me, shading your eyes…
Do you not see -
Through the lucent haze
Out of the converter rising -
In the spirals of fire
Smiting and blinding,
A shadowy shape
White as a flame of sacrifice,
Like a lily swaying?

The ore leaping in the crucibles,
The ore communicant,
Sending faint thrills along the leads…
Fire is running along the roots of the mountains…
I feel the long recoil of earth
As under a mighty quickening…
(Dawn is aglow in the light of the Iron…)
All palpitant, I wait…

Here ye, Dictators - late Lords of the Iron,
Shut in your council rooms, palsied, depowered -
The blooded, implacable Word?
Not whispered in cloture, one to the other,
(Brother in fear of the fear of his brother…)
But chanted and thundered
On the brazen, articulate tongues of the Iron
Babbling in flame…

Sung to the rhythm of prisons dismantled,
Manacles riven and ramparts defaced…
(Hearts death-anointed yet hearing life calling…)
Ankle chains bursting and gallows unbraced…

Sung to the rhythm of arsenals burning…
Clangor of iron smashing on iron,
Turmoil of metal and dissonant baying
Of mail-sided monsters shattered asunder…

Hulks of black turbines all mangled and roaring,
Battering egress through ramparted walls…
Mouthing of engines, made rabid with power,
Into the holocaust snorting and plunging…

Mighty converters torn from their axis,
Flung to the furnaces, vomiting fire,
Jumbled in white-heaten masses disshapen…
Writhing in flame-tortured levers of iron…

Gnashing of steel serpents twisting and dying…
Screeching of steam-glutted cauldrons rending…
Shock of leviathans prone on each other…
Scaled flanks touching, ore entering ore…
Steel haunches closing and grappling and swaying
In the waltz of the mating locked mammoths of iron,
Tasting the turbulent fury of living,
Mad with a moment's exuberant living!
Crash of devastating hammers despoiling..
Hands inexorable, marring
What hands had so cunningly moulded…

Structures of steel welded, subtily tempered,
Marvelous wrought of the wizards of ore,
Torn into octaves discordantly clashing,
Chords never final but onward progressing
In monstrous fusion of sound ever smiting on sound
in mad vortices whirling…

Till the ear, tortured, shrieks for cessation
Of the raving inharmonies hatefully mingling…
The fierce obligato the steel pipes are screaming…
The blare of the rude molten music of Iron…


Scheme abcdE ffdaxxgd hexx ijxjxxxx kk dlMn xfxxfx oooxxxcxxx dxpxxx lMfnx xxixfhfxxf caxcxfgk gaEhhegx xxfa fgfh fxhf phdg ffhqfgffbfa eqffxf dffg
Poetic Form
Metre 111110 1110 11110010 111110 01001001 111001010 000101010101010 101010 0011011001 10011 111011001010010111 010101010 11111111110 110010 101111001 0110010 1111 11110010 110011110 1101101 111110 11001 1100 1111 110111 11111 1011011 1011010 1001 10101 110101 1101011 1001010 1001010 10010101 11100 100101 110101 110101 010101 110010 1101110 00111 1111100 10110 1101011 10101110 1001010 101011 10111110 011111 01111010 110101 11001 10101 110100 11101 0011 11111 01111011 1111 10101 11001010 0010110 1010 01001 1101110 101010 0110001 011 10110101 1011001011010 11010111 110010100 11010011010 1111 11010111010 10110111 01001001 11001011010 10011011110 110010 101001011010 10001 11010110010 1100101 11010110110 101100101 11010110010 111010110 1110010010 11101010010 11110110010 10001111 10110110110 0101010010 1001011110 1101010010 10011101 10011010110 10111010010 101110110 11111110 111011001 1110010010 0011010110110 10010010110 11010010010 11100101 1100010 111111 101110110 1001101011 10110110 11010110010 010101110111 01110 101101110 101011100 011011110 011011010110
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 4,055
Words 694
Sentences 12
Stanzas 20
Stanza Lengths 5, 8, 4, 8, 2, 4, 6, 10, 6, 5, 10, 8, 8, 4, 4, 4, 4, 11, 6, 4
Lines Amount 121
Letters per line (avg) 27
Words per line (avg) 6
Letters per stanza (avg) 161
Words per stanza (avg) 34
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 05, 2023

3:28 min read
115

Lola Ridge

Lola Ridge was an anarchist poet and an influential editor of avant-garde feminist and Marxist publications best remembered for her long poems and poetic sequences She along with other political poets of the early Modernist period has been coming under increasing critical scrutiny at the beginning of the twenty-first century more…

All Lola Ridge poems | Lola Ridge Books

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