Angel Of The North Poem by Adam Clarke

When the Angel of the North came forth
It battled icy rain
Already rusted in its joints
It could not feel the pain

So upright in its posture
With legs locked to the ground
When sleet and snow attacked it
It did not make a sound

Its rivets are unbending
Its boots are made of steel
With shoulders ratchet-rigid
And a heart that cannot feel

With wings outstretched, pre-frozen,
It takes the winter’s bite
With gaze fixed to horizon
Oblivious to its plight