Poem by Louis Untermeyer

Portrait of a Machine

What nudity as beautiful as this
Obedient monster purring at its toil;
These  naked iron muscles dripping oil
And the sure-fingered rods that never miss.
This long and shining flank of metal is
Magic that greasy labour cannot spoil;
While this vast engine that could rend the soil
Conceals its fury with a gentle hiss.
It does not vent its loathing, it does not turn
Upon its makers with destroying hate.
It bears a deeper malice; lives to earn
It’s masters bread and laughs to see this great
Lord of the earth, who rules but cannot learn,
Become the slave of what his slaves create.

1. The Dark Chamber
2. The Laughers
3. How Much of Godhood
4. Summons
5. On the Birth of a Child

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