For being such a liar,
Who says that you, my HINDENBURG, are not
As high as our All-Highest, mate of GOTT
(Or even slightly higher).
Stout thruster, in the push you have no peer,
Yet more supremely brilliant
This crowning stroke of progress toward the rear,
This strong recoil from which with heartened cheer
We hope to bound resilient.
Lo! the creative spirit's vital spark!