Classic Poem

How does it feel?—
The drawing of the magnet on the steel?
All else gives way;
To rivets bold, no bars delay.
Called in that overwhelming hour,
From far and near they fly and cling
Allied, united, christening;
And the great pulsing currents flow
Through each small scattered scrap below.
Scattered no more
One with that all compelling core;
One absolute, one all alive with power.

How does it feel?—
The swift obedient utmost flight
Of radiant sky-wide waves of light,
Pancouriens of the central sun
Crossing a million miles as one—
Still going—going—
Limitless joy that needs no knowing
Each last least flickering ray
One with the Heart of Day.