The Groundhog

Groundhog Groundhog, catching sun,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What frightening chin or vein,
Could claim thy grave dexterity?
In what brilliant spheres or deep
caught the shadow of thine calves?
on what wings dare he instruct?
What the arm, dare throw the shadow?
And what finger, & what balance,
Could fix the sinews of thy mouth?
And when thy mouth began to feed,
What true arm? & what true shoulder?
What the grinder? what the ball,
In what steel mill was thy spleen?
What the mortar? what true drill,
Dare its bursting horrors blast!
When the skies tore down their cloaks
And blessed men with their strokes:
Did he beam his craft to see?
Did he who fed the cat feed thee?
Groundhog Groundhog, catching sun,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What frightening chin or vein,
Could claim thy grave dexterity?

Crunch!