Explore Poems GO!

What The Coal-Heaver Said

Rating: 2.7

The moon's an open furnace door
Where all can see the blast,
We shovel in our blackest griefs,
Upon that grate are cast
Our aching burdens, loves and fears
And underneath them wait
Paper and tar and pitch and pine
Called strife and blood and hate.

Out of it all there comes a flame,

A splendid widening light.
Read More

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM