Still not content, I'd be an architect
And renovate this battered world for God,
Hurling across steep valleys, mile on mile
Through cloudland, spans of marble aqueduct;
Leading chained rivers from the mountain-heights
Down to the plains where men are wont to toil,
There I would cause these Samsons of the crags,
Scenting the sea, whose waves are unconfined,
To shake themselves as once at other times,
And rush in frenzy forward turning mills.