Of serpent belts that coil and play,
And, moaning, ever twist and spin.
What cares she for the noise and whir
Of clanking hammers sounding near?
A mother’s heart has lifted her
Beyond a single touch of fear.
Beneath her, throbbing anvils shout,
And lift their voice with ringing peal,
While engines groan and toss about
Their tentacles of gleaming steel.