Cutting an iron plate with a cold-chisel,
His hammer's stunning clang
Through all the workshop rang,
As I stept in out of the seeping drizzle:

And, even as I stood behind him, laughing,
With all his mind intent,
And his whole being bent
On cutting that tough metal, till the chaffing

Of laughing mates rang louder in his hearing,
He worked, nor turned to see:
But, when he looked at me,
And read my eyes' good news — at one leap clearing

The crowded workshop, clutching still his chisel,
Home to his wife he ran —
Home, like a crazy man,
The happy father ran through the cold drizzle.