Roger Bleile
~ Elite 1000 Member ~
I was looking for something in back issues of THE ENGRAVER when I came across a poem I wrote in 1996 that was published in issue 30. It is dedicated to those living and dead who have devoted themselves to engraving. I hope you like it.
THE ANCIENT CRAFT
The flowing trace of spiral lines
Engraved in steel like living vines
Surround the graven stag and hound
About whose forms the leaves are wound.
What hand has wrought this florid scene
With simple tools, not great machine?
By hammer blows on chisel shaft
Or graver moved by ancient craft.
Engravers cut the gold and steel
By hand, by eye, by subtle feel.
While skills of hand now die away
The hand engravers work each day.
Around the world the trade they ply
Makes sure their art will never die.
Roger Bleile
THE ANCIENT CRAFT
The flowing trace of spiral lines
Engraved in steel like living vines
Surround the graven stag and hound
About whose forms the leaves are wound.
What hand has wrought this florid scene
With simple tools, not great machine?
By hammer blows on chisel shaft
Or graver moved by ancient craft.
Engravers cut the gold and steel
By hand, by eye, by subtle feel.
While skills of hand now die away
The hand engravers work each day.
Around the world the trade they ply
Makes sure their art will never die.
Roger Bleile