THE WHEEL
I.
The height of a man, it trembled in the corner,
Swayed by their entrance;
Its slender spokes were fragrant
With the resinous breath of pine woods
And of the pungent oil,-
Inert, waiting the touch of life
To bring it to life.
The height of a man, it trembled in the corner,
Swayed by their entrance;
Its slender spokes were fragrant
With the resinous breath of pine woods
And of the pungent oil,-
Inert, waiting the touch of life
To bring it to life.
The old grandfather brooded a moment. . . .
"I am not sure what it will do . . . not yet. . . .
Not what I want it to do."
"I am not sure what it will do . . . not yet. . . .
Not what I want it to do."
"And that?"
"To run forever!
From early time men have sought it,—
And I . . . for years. . . . But, watch!"
From early time men have sought it,—
And I . . . for years. . . . But, watch!"
He loosened a clutch . . . a gentle push. . . .
Whirr—click! Whirr—click!
Around and around, and the click as the spokes,
Reaching the height, folded and shortened,
Lengthening again as it neared the bottom—
Whirr—click! Whirr—click!
Whirr—click! Whirr—click!
Around and around, and the click as the spokes,
Reaching the height, folded and shortened,
Lengthening again as it neared the bottom—
Whirr—click! Whirr—click!
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