Rembrandt alone could paint this mammoth shed Filled with weird hissing like some hydra's lair, Where thick smoke eddies through the sunless air And webs of steel curve upward overhead. These floors run burning oils. These fires are fed From pits of Tartarus. Against the glare High-shouldered, coal-black gryphons crouch and stare. Their heavy panting wakes a sense of dread. Yet stranger far, the human ants in hordes Who swarm like imps in some infernal masque, Seeming to guide each awful shape of power As th' elemental spirits' potent lords, -- Yet only toiling at their common task, Bound by a schedule to the clamoring hour! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INTERRACIAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON AN AMERICAN IN BANGKOK by KAREN SWENSON RAIN-SONGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TO AN UNBORN PAUPER CHILD by THOMAS HARDY ON A GRAVE IN CHRIST-CHURCH, HANTS by OSCAR FAY ADAMS SAINT BRANDAN by MATTHEW ARNOLD EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 32. THERE'S NO DEFENCE AGAINST LOVE by PHILIP AYRES |