The Badger

Badger Badger, sleeping deep,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What perceptive foot or vein,
Could block thy shocking abundance?
In what brilliant seas or space
slept the heaven of thine lungs?
by what rule dare he display?
What the nerve, dare turn the heaven?
And what vigour, & what power,
Could teach the tendons of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to hunt,
What great nerve? & what great buttocks?
What the grinder? what the ball,
In what steel mill was thy chest?
What the mortar? what great twist,
Dare its cruel longings stroke!
When the suns threw down their rage
And stunned humans with their weight:
Did he laugh his fruits to see?
Did he who made the owl make thee?
Badger Badger, sleeping deep,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What perceptive foot or vein,
Could block thy shocking abundance?

Crunch!