Arthur Stringer sets up a vivid contrast between two figures. A muscular laborer stands high above hissing steam, controlling a thundering drill with the casual power of Thor; though grimed and sweating, he seems almost godlike and free in his hard work. Nearby, a wealthy young man emerges wrapped in fur, thin and frail, leading a small dog on a silver chain. He glances at the worker with faint, almost pitying condescension, then strolls away down a calm avenue. The speaker reverses our expectations: the elegant youth, for all his comfort, is the one who is held by his chain, passive and confined by luxury, while the begrimed worker possesses real strength and purpose. The mood is cool and ironic, turning the idea of chains into a quiet class critique.
Chains — Summary
I watched the men at work on the stubborn rock, But mostly the one man poised on a drill Above the steam that hissed and billowed about him White in the frosty air, Where the lordly house would stand.
Majestic, muscular, high like a god, He stood, And controlled and stopped And started his thundering drill, Offhand and careless and lordly as Thor, Begrimed and solemn and crowned with sweat, Where the great steel chains swung over the buckets of rock.
Then out of a nearby house came a youth, All gloved and encased in fur and touched with content, Thin-shouldered and frail and finished, Leading a house-dog out on a silver chain. He peered at the figure that fought with the drill Above the billowing steam and tumult of sound, Peered up for a moment impassive, With almost pitying eyes, And then went pensively down the Avenue's calm, In the clear white light of the noonday sun, Not holding, but held by his silvery chain!