Thine to explore the azure-vaulted dome!
(I wonder how the deuce we're going home.)
Up, up, thou speedest, flaunting, flaunting high,
Thy glist'ring frame emblazon'd 'gainst the sky;
And myriad-minded fancies still pursue
Thy gliding—(Blow! the anchor's fouled the screw!)
Thou stormy petrel, kissing heaven's height,
(Petrol! The rotten stuff declines to light)
Onward thou soarest o'er the City's dust
Shimmering, triumphant. (Gad! The motor's bust!)