The Power House

Every day I go past
The power house on Ludlow Street.
I look in the open windows
And see the great dynamos on their shelves.
They have power enough
To jazz the earth
And throw the planets out of step,
But they make no sound.
I saw a girl with shell goggles
Dusting some of them, unterrified
By her proximity
To such dangerous engines.
Look out, child, look out!
Don't get too near the Bernard Shaw circuit-breaker
Or the Walt Whitman flywheel!
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