All day long I am fashioning crowns,
Crowns of great price for you!
What do I fashion them of?
Opals and pearls of the dew,
Diamonds of old renowns,
Blazing rubies of love,
And gold from the heart of the golden sun, brought down by a sunset djinn,—
Brighter gold, purer gold than ever gleamed under Andvari's fin!
All day long I am tempering swords,
Swords for my thought to wield!
What is the steel I true,
And how is their splendor annealed?
High dreams, to slay evil hordes,
And flaming thoughts of you
That light my dark heart from their white-hot forge — a glory to take one's breath —
Like the dove-gray, rose-faint veils of faith you wind round the skull of death!
But when was a sword or a crown
For praise or for honor meet,
When the truth transcends, and sees
Knighthood kneeling at your feet?
In the darkness they go down!
There is better trust in these:
Set teeth, and the furious will to strive through the dust of the world for you;
The hardly builded house of deeds each day, that must prove me true!