NO "fan is in his hand" for these Young villagers beneath the trees, Watching the wheels. But I recall The rhythm of rods that rise and fall, Purging the harvest, over-seas. No fan, no flail, no threshing-floor! And all their symbols evermore Forgone in England now -- the sign, The visible pledge, the threat divine, The chaff dispersed, the wheat in store. The unbreathing engine marks no tune, Steady at sunrise, steady at noon, Inhuman, perfect, saving time, And saving measure, and saving rhyme -- And did our Ruskin speak too soon? "No noble strength on earth" he sees "Save Hercules' arm"; his grave decrees Curse wheel and steam. As the wheels ran I saw the other strength of man, I knew the brain of Hercules. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HARLEM DANCER by CLAUDE MCKAY SUMMER IN ENGLAND, 1914 by ALICE MEYNELL LAUTERBRUNNEN by THOMAS GOLD APPLETON TWELVE SONNETS: 9. WEARINESS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE HILLS OF OLD VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |