Days of Dictation

Of flexed arising biceps multiplied

No brain alone is wired for the sense.

Common disaster parts its portentous thunder.

Each man preserves his separate innocence.

But what happens to a fellow's muscle

And to his fearing and creating will

'When destiny's so deep he's swallowed in it,

And no one man seems much responsible?

Of masses in motion madmen possess the reason,

As, in the thudding springtime,

No light step comes, as said, to point the way,

But bulls of heavy and fanatic frame.