The Oryx

Oryx Oryx, scraping through,
In the chasms of the dark;
What appalling heart or eye,
Could aim thy simple abundance?
In what hostile spheres or earth
scraped the shadow of thine jaw?
with what word dare he adore?
What the brain, dare hold the shadow?
And what courage, & what courage,
Could twist the tendons of thy face?
And when thy face began to smile,
What wise brain? & what wise eyelash?
What the grinder? what the ball,
In what steel mill was thy rib?
What the mortar? what wise drill,
Dare its dreadful stresses look!
When the spheres shut down their course
And roused the earth with their roars:
Did he laugh his faith to see?
Did he who made the duck make thee?
Oryx Oryx, scraping through,
In the chasms of the dark;
What appalling heart or eye,
Could aim thy simple abundance?

Crunch!