From The Sun, January 8, 1915.
The gas tank’s full of gasoline
The crank case full of oil;
From top to tire, the whole machine
Springs eager to its toil.
The top and windshield both are down,
In rush the sun and wind;
They smooth away my furrowed frown
And drive care from my mind.
The engine’s purr, the hum of gears
All blend and make me feel
A newer music of the spheres,
A symphony of steel.
Before me lies the broad highway
Through village, wood and farm;
It lures me on, and I obey
Its overwhelming charm.
No more I sigh, like Mercury,
To fly on winged heel,
For Vulcan with new sorcery
Has forged me wings of steel!