Beetling rock, with roar and smoke <br />Break before my hammer-stroke! <br />Deeper I must thrust and lower <br />Till I hear the ring of ore. <br /> <br />From the mountain's unplumbed night, <br />Deep amid the gold-veins bright, <br />Diamonds lure me, rubies beckon, <br />Treasure-hoard that none may reckon. <br /> <br />There is peace within the deep-- <br />Peace and immemorial sleep; <br />Heavy hammer, burst as bidden, <br />To the heart-nook of the hidden! <br /> <br />Once I, too, a careless lad, <br />Under starry heavens was glad, <br />Trod the primrose paths of summer, <br />Child-like knew not care nor cummer. <br /> <br />But I lost the sense of light <br />In the poring womb of night; <br />Woodland songs, when earth rejoiced her, <br />Breathed not down my hollow cloister. <br /> <br />Fondly did I cry, when first <br />Into the dark place I burst: <br />"Answer spirits of the middle <br />Earth, my life's unending riddle!--" <br /> <br />Still the spirits of the deep <br />Unrevealed their answer keep; <br />Still no beam from out the gloomy <br />Cavern rises to illume me. <br /> <br />Have I erred? Does this way lead <br />Not to clarity indeed? <br />If above I seek to find it, <br />By the glare my eyes are blinded. <br /> <br />Downward, then! the depths are best; <br />There is immemorial rest. <br />Heavy hammer burst as bidden <br />To the heart-nook of the hidden!-- <br /> <br />Hammer-blow on hammer-blow <br />Till the lamp of life is low. <br />Not a ray of hope's fore-warning; <br />Not a glimmer of the morning.<br /><br />Henrik Johan Ibsen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-miner/
