GIRDERS of iron; bridges wrought of steel, Fashioned by Titans labouring in night, Naked against a sullen glow of light From furnaces wherein the hot floods reel Flame-drunken; toil-engirdled men that feel The pulse of elemental world-ways; might And power; blind forces without sense of sight In depths and shadows which the hills conceal. These were as far-off visions in a dream; Silence, that knows no speech, was utter lord; 'Earth is asleep, asleep her toiling men, Naught wakes,' I said. There broke a sudden gleam And, out of darkness, thunderous there roared The onrush—passed—and all was night again. |