Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
Cold Iron
“G
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.”
“Good!” said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
“But Iron—Cold Iron—is master of them all.”
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
“Nay!” said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
“But Iron—Cold Iron—shall be master of you all!”
When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron—Cold Iron—was master of it all!
“What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?”
“Nay!” said the Baron, “mock not at my fall,
For Iron—Cold Iron—is master of men all.”
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.”
“As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron—Cold Iron—must be master of men all!”
“Here is Bread and here is Wine—sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron—Cold Iron—can be master of men all!”
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
“See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,
Show Iron—Cold Iron—to be master of men all!”
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive thy treason—I redeem thy fall—
For Iron—Cold Iron—must be master of men all!”
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.”
“Nay!” said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
“But Iron—Cold Iron—is master of men all!
Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!”