A poem for guys

I didn't learn to understand, appreciate, or otherwise love poetry as I grew up; I wish I had. In recent years I have been collecting some things that increasingly enrich my life, most notably the work of the great English parish priest George Herbert. I admire the contemporary work of Wendell Berry (although he is a better essayist than poet) and Pastor John Piper, who faithfully cranks out a series of Advent poems every year.
I like two things about the following piece by the English poet Alfred Noyes (1880-1959). First, it is a good example of a creative work that is deeply shaped by Scripture without proof-texting; and second, although not at all gender-specific, the message is robust and will stand up to a man's need. Here's one to pull out when you are feeling the heat:
The Anvil
Stand like a beaten anvil, when your dream
Is laid upon you, golden from the fire.
Flinch not, though heavily through that furnace-gleam
The black forge-hammers fall on your desire.

Demonic giants round you seem to loom.
It's but the world-smiths heaving to and fro.
Stand like a beaten anvil. Take the doom
Their ponderous weapons deal you, blow on blow.

Needful to truth as dew is to the flower
Is this wild wrath and this implacable scorn.
For every pang, new beauty, and new power,
Burning blood-red will on your heart be born.
Stand like a beaten anvil. Let earth's wrong
Beat on that iron and ring back in song.