Turret Lathe

Into the steel stock's rhythmical rotation

The cutting edges on the carriage leap,

And scream in the machinery's adoration

Of that electric power which will not sleep,

But trembles in a twisted wire's singing

The eye can see not but the hand can feel-

This force that is responsive to the swinging

Of five gripped fingers on a knob of steel.

This dancing energy that men are dreaming

Out of the ether's mystery of strains

And restless motions, will be always streaming

Through space, where its magnetic fields are spread,

When no clenched hand on polished steel restrains

Its flowing waves in any woven thread.

Paul Engle

ÆNEAS SLEEPS

Walls for the weary summon him to rest.

But he outside the walls has flung his form

Ravaged by wars. The memory-legions swarm

To lull him. Gentle winds above him weep

For Troy. Power comes to him at last, and yet

Æneas may not sleep.

For a great love, an unforgotten love,

Beats in his arteries and shakes his soul

With sorrow, till, as silent clouds unroll,

Ethereal and from a balmy height

Sidonian Dido reaches down to him,

And seals his eyes with night.

Agnes Lee