THE WHEEL
For a long time it whirled;
Then slower and slower.
Whirr-rr—
It was still.
Then slower and slower.
Whirr-rr—
It was still.
The old man's eyelids were narrowed;
He gazed out of the window.
He gazed out of the window.
II.
"You will make it run forever?"
"You will make it run forever?"
"No—I will never do it.
There was a man who stole fire from heaven;
But I shall not steal this.
Why, I've been working for years on it,
And never closer than this:
The touch of thing to thing, of wheel to socket, of body to soul,
Drags, slows the motion.
All things that live and whirl their splendid courses
Grow slowly old and still; the ardor dies,
Out of the clamor a quiet, out of the stir a rest.
What then but shift the parts,
There was a man who stole fire from heaven;
But I shall not steal this.
Why, I've been working for years on it,
And never closer than this:
The touch of thing to thing, of wheel to socket, of body to soul,
Drags, slows the motion.
All things that live and whirl their splendid courses
Grow slowly old and still; the ardor dies,
Out of the clamor a quiet, out of the stir a rest.
What then but shift the parts,
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