Might of the mart into monument fashioned,
Mammon translated to mountain man-made,
The clouds ever nigher and nigher;
And the clang of the anvil, the steam-shriek impassioned
Seem calling from girder and frontlet of steel
Upward thrown,
With the square-chiseled blocks,
As they build ever higher and higher,
And then, for firm planting thy heel,
They delve ever deeper to heart of the rocks.