The Mammoth

Mammoth Mammoth, shooting fast,
In the chasms of the sky;
What commanding vein or breast,
Could frame thy exciting power?
In what angry earth or deep
shot the shadow of thine brain?
by what force dare he create?
What the nerve, dare turn the shadow?
And what skeleton, & what faith,
Could mould the tendons of thy chest?
And when thy chest began to breathe,
What bright nerve? & what bright torso?
What the iron? what the pierce,
In what furnace was thy leg?
What the stoker? what bright stroke,
Dare its hostile terrors stroke!
When the skies tore down their cloaks
And blessed men with their strokes:
Did he smile his wish to see?
Did he who freed the bear free thee?
Mammoth Mammoth, shooting fast,
In the chasms of the sky;
What commanding vein or breast,
Could frame thy exciting power?

Crunch!