Pancrates
From: The Greek Anthology
I hang this hammer up who beat the odds
Of starving off. It is your hammer now
That pounded out a humble Vulcan-vow —
Never to let my children go to bed
Above this shop without their daily bread.
So with each swing, the iron that was black
Was turned to red, and like the wolf, turned back.
Translated by Len Krisak
Page(s) 248
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