,the ,voice of the ,machines  ,an       
,introduction to the ,twentieth ,century
   ,,by   ,gerald ,stanley ,lee   ,the  
,mount ,tom ,press ,northampton1        
,massachusetts     ,,copyright1 #aijf   
,,by ,,the ,,mount ,,tom ,,press        
,,to ,,jennette ,,lee    444 ,now and   
then my fancy caught   ,a flying glimpse
 of a good life beyond--   ,something of
 ships and sunlight1 streets and        
singing1   ,troy falling1 and the ages  
coming back1   ,and ages coming         
forward4444     ,contents   ,,part ,i   
,,the ,,men ,,behind ,,the ,,machines   
,i4--,machines as ,seen from a ,meadow  
,,ii4--,as ,seen through a ,hatchway    
,,iii4--,the ,souls of ,machines        
,,iv4--,poets      ,v4--,gentlemen      
,,vi4--,prophets   ,,part ,,ii  ,,the   
,,language ,,of ,,the ,,machines        
,i4--,as ,good as ,ours     ,,ii4--,on  
,being ,busy and ,still    ,,iii4--,on  
,not ,showing ,off     ,,iv4--,on       
,making ,people ,proud of the ,world    
,v4--,a ,modest ,universe   ,,part ,,iii

  ,,the ,,machines ,,as ,,poets         
,i4--,plato and the ,general ,electric  
,works     ,,ii4--,hewing away on the   
,heavens and the ,earth    ,,iii4--,the 
,grudge against the ,infinite           
,,iv4--,symbolism in ,modern ,art       
,v4--,the ,machines as ,artists         
,,vi4--,the ,machines as ,philosophers  
,,part ,,iv  ,,the ,,ideas ,,behind     
,,the ,,machines       ,i4--,the ,idea  
of ,incarnation     ,,ii4--,the ,idea of
 ,size    ,,iii4--,the ,idea of ,liberty
     ,,iv4--,the ,idea of ,immortality  
,v4--,the ,idea of ,god     ,,vi4--,the 
,idea of the ,unseen and the ,intangible
    ,,vii4--,the ,idea of ,great ,men   
,,viii4--,the ,idea of ,love and        
,comradeship     ,,part ,,one  ,,the    
,,men ,,behind ,,the ,,machines     ,i  
,,machines4 ,,as ,,seen ,,from ,a       
,,meadow   ,it would be difficult to    
find anything in the encyclopedia that  
would justify the claim that we are     
about to make1 or anything in the       
dictionary4 ,even a poem--which is      

supposed to prove anything with a little
 of nothing--could hardly be found to   
prove it2 but in this beginning hour of 
the twentieth century there are not a   
few of us--for the time at least allowed
 to exist upon the earth--who are       
obliged to say 7with ,luther71 ,though  
every tile on the roundhouse be a devil1
 we cannot say otherwise--the locomotive
 is beautiful4  ,as seen when one is    
looking at it as it is1 and is not      
merely using it4  ,as seen from a       
meadow4  ,we had never thought to fall  
so low as this1 or that the time would  
come when we would feel moved--all but  
compelled1 in fact--to betray to a cold 
and discriminating world our poor1      
pitiful1 one-adjective state4  ,we do   
not know why a locomotive is beautiful4 
,we are perfectly aware that it ought   
not to be4 ,we have all but been ashamed
 of it for being beautiful--and of      
ourselves4 ,we have attempted all       
possible words upon it--the most        
complimentary and worthy ones we        

know--words with the finer resonance in 
them1 and the air of discrimination the 
soul loves4 ,we cannot but say that     
several of these words from time to time
 have seemed almost satisfactory to our 
ears4 ,they seem satisfactory also for  
general use in talking with people1 and 
for introducing locomotives in          
conversation2 but the next time we see a
 locomotive coming down the track1 there
 is no help for us4 ,we quail before the
 headlight of it4 ,the thunder of its   
voice is as the voice of the hurrying   
people4 ,our little row of adjectives is
 vanished4 ,all adjectives are vanished4
 ,they are as one4  ,unless the word    
beautiful is big enough to make room for
 a glorious1 imperious1                 
world-possessing1 world-commanding      
beauty like this1 we are no longer its  
disciples4 ,it is become a play word4   
,it lags behind truth4 ,let it be shut  
in with its rim of hills--the word      
beautiful--its show of sunsets and its  
bouquets and its doilies and its songs  

of birds4 ,we are seekers for a new     
word4 ,it is the first hour of the      
twentieth century4 ,if the hill be      
beautiful1 so is the locomotive that    
conquers a hill4 ,so is the telephone1  
piercing a thousand sunsets north to    
south1 with the sound of a voice4 ,the  
night is not more beautiful1 hanging its
 shadow over the city1 than the electric
 spark pushing the night one side1 that 
the city may behold itself2 and the hour
 is at hand--is even now upon us--when  
not the sun itself shall be more        
beautiful to men than the telegraph     
stopping the sun in the midst of its    
high heaven1 and holding it there1 while
 the will of a child to another child   
ticks round the earth4 ,time shall be   
folded up as a scroll1 saith the voice  
of ,man1 my ,brother4 ,the spaces       
between the hills1 to ,,me1 saith the   
,voice1 shall be as though they were    
not4  ,the voice of man1 my brother1 is 
a new voice4  ,it is the voice of the   
machines4     ,,ii  ,,as ,,seen         

,,through ,a ,,hatchway   ,in its       
present importance as a factor in life  
and a modifier of its conditions1 the   
machine is in every sense a new and     
unprecedented fact4 ,the machine has no 
traditions4 ,the only way to take a     
traditional stand with regard to life or
 the representation of life to-day1 is  
to leave the machine out4 ,it has always
 been left out4 ,leaving it out has made
 little difference4 ,only a small       
portion of the people of the world have 
had to be left out with it4  ,not to see
 poetry in the machinery of this present
 age1 is not to see poetry in the life  
of the age4 ,it is not to believe in the
 age4  ,the first fact a man encounters 
in this modern world1 after his mother's
 face1 is the machine4 ,the moment be   
begins to think outwards1 he thinks     
toward a machine4 ,the bed he lies in   
was sawed and planed by a machine1 or   
cast in a foundry4 ,the windows he looks
 out of were built in mills4 ,his knife 
and fork were made by steam4 ,his food  

has come through rollers and wheels4    
,the water he drinks is pumped to him by
 engines4 ,the ice in it was frozen by a
 factory and the cloth of the clothes he
 wears was flashed together by looms4   
,the machine does not end here4 ,when he
 grows to years of discretion and looks 
about him to choose a place for himself 
in life1 he finds that that place must  
come to him out of a machine4 ,by the   
side of a machine of one sort or        
another1 whether it be of steel rods and
 wheels or of human beings' souls1 he   
must find his place in the great        
whirling system of the order of mortal  
lives1 and somewhere in the system--that
 is1 the ,machine--be the ratchet1      
drive-wheel1 belt1 or spindle under     
infinite space1 ordained for him to be  
from the beginning of the world4  ,the  
moment he begins to think1 a human being
 finds himself facing a huge1 silent1   
blue-and-gold something called the      
universe1 the main fact of which must be
 to him that it seems to go without him 

very well1 and that he must drop into   
the place that comes1 whatever it may   
be1 and hold on as he loves his soul1 or
 forever be left behind4 ,he learns     
before many years that this great       
machine shop of a globe1 turning        
solemnly its days and nights1 where he  
has wandered for a life1 will hardly be 
inclined to stop--to wait perchance--to 
ask him what he wants to be1 or how this
 life of his shall get itself said4 ,he 
looks into the ,face of ,circumstance4  
7,sometimes it is the ,fist of          
,circumstance47 ,the ,face of           
,circumstance is a silent face4 ,it     
points to the machine4 ,he looks into   
the faces of his fellow-men1 hurrying   
past him night and day1--miles of       
streets of them4 ,they1 too1 have looked
 into the ,face of ,circumstance4 ,it   
pointed to the ,machine4 ,they show it  
in their faces4 ,some of them show it in
 their gait4 ,the ,machine closes around
 him1 with its vast insistent murmur1   
million-peopled and full of laughs and  

cries4 ,he listens to it as to the roar 
of all ,being4  ,he listens to the      
,machine's prophet4 ,all men1 says      
,political ,economy1 may be roughly     
divided as attaching themselves to one  
or the other of three great classes of  
activity--production1 consumption or    
distribution4  ,the number of persons   
who are engaged in production outside of
 association with machinery1 if they    
could be gathered together in one place1
 would be an exceedingly small and      
strange and uncanny band of human       
beings4 ,they would be visited by all   
the world as curiosities4  ,the number  
of persons who are engaged in           
distribution outside of association with
 machinery is equally insignificant4    
,except for a few peddlers1 distribution
 is hardly anything else but machinery4 
,the number of persons who are engaged  
in consumption outside of association   
with machinery is equally insignificant4
 ,so far as consumption is concerned1   
any passing freight train1 if it could  

be stopped and examined on its way to   
,new ,york1 would be found to be loaded 
with commodities1 the most important    
part of which1 from the coal up1 have   
been produced by one set of machines to 
be consumed by another set of machines4 
,so omnipresent and masterful and       
intimate with all existence have cogs   
and wheels and belts become1 that not a 
civilized man could be found on the     
globe to-day1 who1 if all the machines  
that have helped him to live this single
 year of #aijf could be gathered or     
piled around him where he stands1 would 
be able1 for the machines piled high    
around his life1 to see the sky--to be  
sure there was a sky4 ,it is then his   
privilege1 looking up at this horizon of
 steel and iron and running belts1 to   
read in a paper book the literary       
definition of what this heaven is1 that 
spreads itself above him1 and above the 
world1 walled in forever with its       
irrevocable roar of wheels4  ,no        
inspiring emotions1 says the literary   

definition1 ideas or conceptions can    
possibly be connected with machinery--or
 ever will be4  ,what is to become of a 
world roofed in with machines for the   
rest of its natural life1 and of the    
people who will have to live under the  
roof of machines1 the literary          
definition does not say4 ,it is not the 
way of literary definitions4 ,for a time
 at least we feel assured that we1 who  
are the makers of definitions1 are      
poetically and personally safe4 ,can we 
not live behind the ramparts of our     
books8 ,we take comfort with the        
medallions of poets and the shelves that
 sing around us4 ,we sit by our library 
fires1 the last nook of poetry4 ,beside 
our gates the great crowding chimneys   
lift themselves4 ,beneath our windows   
herds of human beings1 flocking through 
the din1 in the dark of the morning and 
the dark of the night1 go marching to   
their fate4 ,we have done what we could4
 ,have we not defined poetry8 ,is it    
nothing to have laid the boundary line  

of beauty8444 ,the huge1 hurrying1      
helpless world in its belts and         
spindles--the people who are going to be
 obliged to live in it when the present 
tense has spoiled it a little more--all 
this--the great strenuous problem--the  
defense of beauty1 the saving of its    
past1 the forging of its future1 the    
welding of it with life-all these8444   
,pull down the blinds1 ,jeems4 ,shut out
 the noises of the street4 ,a little    
longer 444 the low singing to ourselves4
 ,then darkness4 ,the wheels and the din
 above our graves shall be as the       
passing of silence4  ,is it true that1  
in a few years more1 if a man wants the 
society of his kind1 he will have to    
look down through a hatchway8 ,or that1 
if he wants to be happy1 he will have to
 stand on it and look away8 ,i do not   
know4 ,i only know how it is now4       
,they stay not in their hold   ,these   
stokers1   ,stooping to hell   ,to feed 
a ship4   ,below the ocean floors1      
,before their awful doors   ,bathed in  

flame1   ,i hear their human lives      
,drip--drip4    ,through the lolling    
aisles of comrades   ,in and out of     
sleep1   ,troops of faces   ,to and fro 
of happy feet1   ,they haunt my eyes4   
,their murky faces beckon me   ,from the
 spaces of the coolness of the sea      
,their fitful bodies away against the   
skies4     ,,iii  ,,souls ,,of          
,,machines   ,it does not make very much
 difference to the machines whether     
there is poetry in them or not4 ,it is a
 mere abstract question to the machines4
  ,it is not an abstract question to the
 people who are under the machines4 ,men
 who are under things want to know what 
the things are for1 and they want to    
know what they are under them for4 ,it  
is a very live1 concrete1 practical     
question whether there is1 or can be1   
poetry in machinery or not4 ,the fate of
 society turns upon it4  ,there seems to
 be nothing that men can care for1      
whether in this world or the next1 or   
that they can do1 or have1 or hope to   

have1 which is not bound up1 in our     
modern age1 with machinery4 ,with the   
fate of machinery it stands or falls4   
,modern religion is a machine4 ,if the  
characteristic vital power and spirit of
 the modern age is organization1 and it 
cannot organize in its religion1 there  
is little to be hoped for in religion4  
,modern education is a machine4 ,if the 
principle of machinery is a wrong and   
inherently uninspired principle--if     
because a machine is a machine no great 
meaning can be expressed by it1 and no  
great result accomplished by it--there  
is little to be hoped for in modern     
education4  ,modern government is a     
machine4 ,the more modern a government  
is1 the more the machine in it is       
emphasized4 ,modern trade is a machine4 
,it is made up of 7#a7                  
corporations--huge machines employing   
machines1 and 7#b7 of trusts--huge      
machines that control machines that     
employ machines4 ,modern charity is a   
machine for getting people to help each 

other4 ,modern society is a machine for 
getting them to enjoy each other4       
,modern literature is a machine for     
supplying ideas4 ,modern journalism is a
 machine for distributing them2 and     
modern art is a machine for supplying   
the few1 very few1 things that are left 
that other machines cannot supply4      
,both in its best and worst features the
 characteristic1 inevitable thing that  
looms up in modern life over us and     
around us1 for better or worse1 is the  
machine4 ,we may whine poetry at it1 or 
not4 ,it makes little difference to the 
machine4 ,we may not see what it is for4
 ,it has come to stay4 ,it is going to  
stay until we do see what it is for4 ,we
 cannot move it4 ,we cannot go around   
it4 ,we cannot destroy it4 ,we are born 
in the machine4 ,a man cannot move the  
place he is born in4 ,we breathe the    
machine4 ,a man cannot go around what he
 breathes1 any more than he can go      
around himself4 ,he cannot destroy what 
he breathes1 even by destroying himself4

 ,if there cannot be poetry in          
machinery--that is if there is no       
beautiful and glorious interpretation of
 machinery for our modern life--there   
cannot be poetry in anything in modern  
life4 ,either the machine is the door of
 the future1 or it stands and mocks at  
us where the door ought to be4 ,if we   
who have made machines cannot make our  
machines mean something1 we ourselves   
are meaningless1 the great blue-and-gold
 machine above our lives is meaningless1
 the winds that blow down upon us from  
it are empty winds1 and the lights that 
lure us in it are pictures of darkness4 
,there is one question that confronts   
and undergirds our whole modern         
civilization4 ,all other questions are a
 part of it4 ,can a ,machine ,age have a
 soul8  ,if we can find a great hope and
 a great meaning for the machine-idea in
 its simplest form1 for machinery       
itself--that is1 the machines of steel  
and flame that minister to us--it will  
be possible to find a great hope for our

 other machines4 ,if we cannot use the  
machines we have already mastered to    
hope with1 the less we hope from our    
other machines--our spirit-machines1 the
 machines we have not mastered--the     
better4 ,in taking the stand that there 
is poetry in machinery1 that inspiring  
ideas and emotions can be and will be   
connected with machinery1 we are taking 
a stand for the continued existence of  
modern religion--7in all reverence7 the 
,god-machine2 for modern education--the 
man-machine2 for modern government--the 
crowd-machine2 for modern art--the      
machine in which the crowd lives4  ,if  
inspiring ideas cannot be connected with
 a machine simply because it is a       
machine1 there is not going to be       
anything left in this modern world to   
connect inspiring ideas with4           
,johnstown haunts me--the very memory of
 it4 ,flame and vapor and shadow--like  
some huge1 dim face of ,labor1 it lifts 
itself dumbly and looks at me4 ,i       
suppose1 to some it is but a wraith of  

rusty vapor1 a mist of old iron1 sparks 
floating from a chimney1 while a train  
sweeps past4 ,but to me1 with its spires
 of smoke and its towers of fire1 it is 
as if a great door had been opened and  
,i had watched a god1 down in the wonder
 of real things--in the act of making an
 earth4 ,i am filled with childhood--and
 a kind of strange1 happy terror4 ,i    
struggle to wonder my way out4          
,thousands of railways--after this--bind
 ,johnstown to me2 miles of high1       
narrow1 steel-built streets--the whole  
world lifting itself mightily up1       
rolling itself along1 turning itself    
over on a great steel pivot1 down in    
,pennsylvania--for its days and nights4 
,i am whirled away from it as from a    
vision4 ,i am as one who has seen men   
lifting their souls up in a great flame 
and laying down floors on a star4 ,i    
have stood and watched1 in the          
melting-down place1 the making and the  
welding place of the bones of the world4
  ,it is the object of this present     

writing to search out a world--a world a
 man can live in4 ,if he cannot live in 
this one1 let him know it and make one4 
,if he can1 let him face it4 ,if the    
word ,,yes cannot be written across the 
world once more--written across this    
year of the world in the roar of its    
vast machines--we want to know it4 ,we  
cannot quite see the word               
,,yes--sometimes1 huddled behind our    
machines4 ,but we hear it sometimes4 ,we
 know we hear it4 ,it is stammered to us
 by the machines themselves4     ,,iv   
,,poets   ,when1 standing in the midst  
of the huge machine-shop of our modern  
life1 we are informed by the ,professor 
of ,poetics that machinery--the thing we
 do our living with--is inevitably      
connected with ideas practical and      
utilitarian--at best intellectual--that 
it will always be practically impossible
 to make poetry out of it1 to make it   
appeal to the imagination1 we refer the 
question to the real world1 to the real 
spirit we know exists in the real world4

  ,expectancy is the creed of the       
twentieth century4  ,expectancy1 which  
was the property of poets in the        
centuries that are now gone by1 is the  
property to-day of all who are born upon
 the earth4  ,the man who is not able to
 draw a distinction between the works of
 ,john ,milton and the plays of         
,shakespeare1 but who expects something 
of the age he lives in1 comes nearer to 
being a true poet than any writer of    
verses can ever expect to be who does   
not expect anything of this same age he 
lives in--not even verses4 ,expectancy  
is the practice of poetry4 ,it is poetry
 caught in the act4 ,though the whole   
world be lifting its voice1 and saying  
in the same breath that poetry is dead1 
this same world is living in the        
presence of more poetry1 and more kinds 
of poetry1 than men have known on the   
earth before1 even in the daring of     
their dreams4  ,pessimism has always    
been either literary--the result of not 
being in the real world enough--or      

genuine and provincial--the result of   
not being in enough of the real world4  
,if we look about in this present day   
for a suitable and worthy expectancy to 
make an age out of1 or even a poem out  
of1 where shall we look for it8 ,in the 
literary definition8 the historical     
argument8 the minor poet8  ,the poet of 
the new movement shall not be discovered
 talking with the doctors1 or defining  
art in the schools1 nor shall he be seen
 at first by peerers in books4 ,the     
passer-by shall see him1 perhaps1       
through the door of a foundry at night1 
a lurid figure there1 bent with labor1  
and humbled with labor1 but with the    
fire from the heart of the earth playing
 upon his face4 ,his hands--innocent of 
the ink of poets1 of the mere outsides  
of things--shall be beautiful with the  
grasp of the thing called life--with the
 grim1 silent1 patient creating of life4
 ,he shall be seen living with retorts  
around him1 loomed over by              
machines--shadowed by weariness--to the 

men about him half comrade1 half        
monk--going in and out among them       
silently1 with some secret glory in his 
heart4  ,if literary men--so            
called--knew the men who live with      
machines1 who are putting their lives   
into them--inventors1 engineers and     
brakemen--as well as they know          
,shakespeare and ,milton and the ,club1 
there would be no difficulty about      
finding a great meaning--i4 e41 a great 
hope or great poetry--in machinery4 ,the
 real problem that stands in the way of 
poetry in machinery is not literary1 nor
 sthetic4 ,it is sociological4 ,it is in
 getting people to notice that an       
engineer is a gentleman and a poet4     
,v  ,,gentlemen   ,the truest definition
 of a gentleman is that he is a man who 
loves his work4 ,this is also the truest
 definition of a poet4 ,the man who     
loves his work is a poet because he     
expresses delight in that work4 ,he is a
 gentleman because his delight in that  
work makes him his own employer4 ,no    

matter how many men are over him1 or how
 many men pay him1 or fail to pay him1  
he stands under the wide heaven the one 
man who is master of the earth4 ,he is  
the one infallibly overpaid man on it4  
,the man who loves his work has the     
single thing the world affords that can 
make a man free1 that can make him his  
own employer1 that admits him to the    
ranks of gentlemen1 that pays him1 or is
 rich enough to pay him1 what a         
gentleman's work is worth4  ,the poets  
of the world are the men who pour their 
passions into it1 the men who make the  
world over with their passions4         
,everything that these men touch1 as    
with some strange and immortal joy from 
out of them1 has the thrill of beauty in
 it1 and exultation and wonder4 ,they   
cannot have it otherwise even if they   
would4 ,a true man is the autobiography 
of some great delight mastering his     
heart for him1 possessing his brain1    
making his hands beautiful4  ,looking at
 the matter in this way1 in proportion  

to the number employed there are more   
gentlemen running locomotives to-day    
than there are teaching in colleges4 ,in
 proportion as we are more creative in  
creating machines at present than we are
 in creating anything else there are    
more poets in the mechanical arts than  
there are in the fine arts2 and while   
many of the men who are engaged in the  
machine-shops can hardly be said to be  
gentlemen 7that is1 they would rather be
 preachers or lawyers71 these can be    
more than offset by the much larger     
proportion of men in the fine arts1 who1
 if they were gentlemen in the truest   
sense1 would turn mechanics at once2    
that is1 they would do the thing they   
were born to do1 and they would respect 
that thing1 and make every one else     
respect it4  ,while the definition of a 
poet and a gentleman--that he is a man  
who loves his work--might appear to make
 a new division of society1 it is a     
division that already exists in the     
actual life of the world1 and           

constitutes the only literal aristocracy
 the world has ever had4  ,it may be set
 down as a fundamental principle that1  
no matter how prosaic a man may be1 or  
how proud he is of having been born upon
 this planet with poetry all left out of
 him1 it is the very essence of the most
 hard and practical man that1 as regards
 the one uppermost thing in his life1   
the thing that reveals the power in him1
 he is a poet in spite of himself1 and  
whether he knows it or not4  ,so long as
 the thing a man works with is a part of
 an inner ideal to him1 so long as he   
makes the thing he works with express   
that ideal1 the heat and the glow and   
the lustre and the beauty and the       
unconquerableness of that man1 and of   
that man's delight1 shall be upon all   
that he does4 ,it shall sing to heaven4 
,it shall sing to all on earth who      
overhear heaven4  ,every man who loves  
his work1 who gets his work and his     
ideal connected1 who makes his work     
speak out the heart of him1 is a poet4  

,it makes little difference what he says
 about it4 ,in proportion as he has     
power with a thing2 in proportion as he 
makes the thing--be it a bit of color1  
or a fragment of flying sound1 or a     
word1 or a wheel1 or a throttle--in     
proportion as he makes the thing fulfill
 or express what he wants it to fulfill 
or express1 he is a poet4 ,all heaven   
and earth cannot make him otherwise4    
,that the inventor is in all essential  
respects a poet toward the machine that 
he has made1 it would be hard to deny4  
,that1 with all the apparent prose that 
piles itself about his machine1 the     
machine is in all essential respects a  
poem to him1 who can question8 ,who has 
ever known an inventor1 a man with a    
passion in his hands1 without feeling   
toward him as he feels toward a poet8   
,is it nothing to us to know that men   
are living now under the same sky with  
us1 hundreds of them 7their faces haunt 
us on the street71 who would all but    
die1 who are all but dying now1 this    

very moment1 to make a machine          
live1--martyrs of valves and wheels and 
of rivets and retorts1 sleepless1       
tireless1 unconquerable men8  ,to know  
an inventor the moment of his           
triumph1--the moment when1 working his  
will before him1 the machine at last1   
resistless1 silent1 massive pantomime of
 a life1 offers itself to the gaze of   
men's souls and the needs of their      
bodies1--to know an inventor at all is  
to know that at a moment like this a    
chord is touched in him strange and     
deep1 soft as from out of all eternity4 
,the melody that ,homer knew1 and that  
,dante knew1 is his also1 with the grime
 upon his hands1 standing and watching  
it there4 ,it is the same song that from
 pride to pride and joy to joy has been 
singing through the hearts of ,the ,men 
,who ,make1 from the beginning of the   
world4 ,the thing that was not1 that now
 is1 after all the praying with his     
hands 444 iron and wood and rivet and   
cog and wheel--is it not more than these

 to him standing before it there8 ,it is
 the face of matter--who does not know  
it8--answering the face of the man1     
whispering to him out of the dust of the
 earth4  ,what is true of the men who   
make the machines is equally true of the
 men who live with them4 ,the brakeman  
and the locomotive engineer and the     
mechanical engineer and the sailor all  
have the same spirit4 ,their days are   
invested with the same dignity and      
aspiration1 the same unwonted           
enthusiasm1 and self-forgetfulness in   
the work itself4 ,they begin their lives
 as boys dreaming of the track1 or of   
cogs and wheels1 or of great waters4    
,as ,i stood by the track the other     
night1 ,michael the switchman was       
holding the road for the nine o'clock   
freight1 with his faded flag1 and his   
grim brown pipe1 and his wooden leg4 ,as
 it rumbled by him1 headlight1 clatter1 
and smoke1 and whirl1 and halo of the   
steam1 every brakeman backing to the    
wind1 lying on the air1 at the jolt of  

the switch1 started1 as at some greeting
 out of the dark1 and turned and gave   
the sign to ,michael4 ,all of the       
brakemen gave it4 ,then we watched them1
 ,michael and ,i1 out of the roar and   
the hiss of their splendid cloud1 their 
flickering1 swaying bodies against the  
sky1 flying out to the ,night1 until    
there was nothing but a dull red murmur 
and the falling of smoke4  ,michael     
hobbled back to his mansion by the      
rails4 ,he put up the foot that was left
 from the wreck1 and puffed and puffed4 
,he had been a brakeman himself4        
,brakemen are prosaic men enough1 no    
doubt1 in the ordinary sense1 but they  
love a railroad as ,shakespeare loved a 
sonnet4 ,it is not given to brakemen1 as
 it is to poets1 to show to the world as
 it passes by that their ideals are     
beautiful4 ,they give their lives for   
them1--hundreds of lives a year4 ,these 
lives may be sordid lives looked at from
 the outside1 but mystery1 danger1      
surprise1 dark cities1 and glistening   

lights1 roar1 dust1 and water1 and      
death1 and life1--these play their      
endless spell upon them4 ,they love the 
shining of the track4 ,it is wrought    
into the very fibre of their being4     
,years pass and years1 and still more   
years4 ,who shall persuade the brakemen 
to leave the track8 ,they never leave   
it4 ,i shall always see them--on their  
flying footboards beneath the           
sky--swaying and rocking--still swaying 
and rocking--to ,eternity4  ,they are   
men who live down through to the spirit 
and the poetry of their calling4 ,it is 
the poetry of the calling that keeps    
them there4  ,most of us in this mortal 
life are allowed but our one peephole in
 the universe1 that we may see ,,it     
withal2 but if we love it enough and    
stand close to it enough1 we breathe the
 secret and touch in our lives the      
secret that throbs through it all4  ,for
 a man to have an ideal in this world1  
for a man to know what an ideal is1 even
 though nothing but a wooden leg shall  

come of it1 and a life in a             
switch-house1 and the signal of comrades
 whirling by1 this also is to have      
lived4  ,the fact that the railroad has 
the same fascination for the railroad   
man that the sea has for the sailor is  
not a mere item of interest pertaining  
to human nature4 ,it is a fact that     
pertains to the art of the present day1 
and to the future of its literature4 ,it
 is as much a symbol of the art of a    
machine age as the man ,ulysses is a    
symbol of the art of an heroic age4     
,that it is next to impossible to get a 
sailor1 with all his hardships1 to turn 
his back upon the sea is a fact a great 
many thousand years old4 ,we find it    
accounted for not only in the           
observation and experience of men1 but  
in their art4 ,it was rather hard for   
them to do it at first 7as with many    
other things71 but even the minor poets 
have admitted the sea into poetry4 ,the 
sea was allowed in poetry before        
mountains were allowed in it4 ,it has   

long been an old story4 ,when the sailor
 has grown too stiff to climb the masts 
he mends sails on the decks4 ,everybody 
understands--even the commonest people  
and the minor poets understand--why it  
is that a sailor1 when he is old and    
bent and obliged to be a landsman to    
die1 does something that holds him close
 to the sea4 ,if he has a garden1 he    
hoes where he can see the sails4 ,if he 
must tend flowers1 he plants them in an 
old yawl1 and when he selects a place   
for his grave1 it is where surges shall 
be heard at night singing to his bones4 
,every one appreciates a fact like this4
 ,there is not a passenger on the       
,empire ,state ,express1 this moment1   
being whirled to the ,west1 who could   
not write a sonnet on it1--not a man of 
them who could not sit down in his seat1
 flying through space behind the set and
 splendid hundred-guarding eyes of the  
engineer1 and write a poem on a dead    
sailor buried by the sea4 ,a crowd on   
the street could write a poem on a dead 

sailor 7that is1 if they were sure he   
was dead71 and now that sailors enough  
have died in the course of time to bring
 the feeling of the sea over into       
poetry1 sailors who are still alive are 
allowed in it4 ,it remains to be seen   
how many wrecks it is going to take1    
lists of killed and wounded1 fatally    
injured1 columns of engineers dying at  
their posts1 to penetrate the spiritual 
safe where poets are keeping their souls
 to-day1 untouched of the world1 and    
bring home to them some sense of the    
adventure and quiet splendor and        
unparalleled expressiveness of the      
engineer's life4 ,he is a man who would 
rather be without a life 7so long as he 
has his nerve7 than to have to live one 
without an engine1 and when he climbs   
down from the old girl at last1 to      
continue to live at all1 to him1 is to  
linger where she is4 ,he watches the    
track as a sailor watches the sea4 ,he  
spends his old age in the roundhouse4   
,with the engines coming in and out1 one

 always sees him sitting in the sun     
there until he dies1 and talking with   
them4 ,nothing can take him away4  ,does
 any one know an engineer who has not   
all but a personal affection for his    
engine1 who has not an ideal for his    
engine1 who holding her breath with his 
will does not put his hand upon the     
throttle of that ideal and make that    
ideal say something8 ,woe to the poet   
who shall seek to define down or to sing
 away that ideal4 ,in its glory1 in     
darkness or in day1 we are hid from     
death4 ,it is the protection of life4   
,the engineer who is not expressing his 
whole soul in his engine1 and in the    
aisles of souls behind him1 is not      
worthy to place his hand upon an        
engine's throttle4 ,indeed1 who is      
he--this man--that this awful privilege 
should be allowed to him1 that he should
 dare to touch the motor nerve of her1  
that her mighty forty-mile-an-hour      
muscles should be the slaves of the     
fingers of a man like this1 climbing the

 hills for him1 circling the globe for  
him8 ,it is impossible to believe that  
an engineer--a man who with a single    
touch sends a thousand tons of steel    
across the earth as an empty wind can   
go1 or as a pigeon swings her wings1 or 
as a cloud sets sail in the west--does  
not mean something by it1 does not love 
to do it because he means something by  
it4 ,if ever there was a poet1 the      
engineer is a poet4 ,in his dumb and    
mighty1 thousand-horizoned brotherhood1 
hastener of men from the ends of the    
earth that they may be as one1 ,i always
 see him1--ceaseless--tireless--flying  
past sleep--out through the             
,night--thundering down the edge of the 
world1 into the ,dawn4  ,who am ,i that 
it should be given to me to make a word 
on my lips to speak1 or to make a thing 
that shall be beautiful with my         
hands--that ,i should stand by my       
brother's life and gaze on his trembling
 track--and not feel what the engine    
says as it plunges past1 about the man  

in the cab8 ,what matters it that he is 
a wordless man1 that he wears not his   
heart in a book8 ,are not the bell and  
the whistle and the cloud of steam1 and 
the rush1 and the peering in his eyes   
words enough8 ,they are the signals of  
this man's life beckoning to my life4   
,standing in his engine there1 making   
every wheel of that engine thrill to his
 will1 he is the priest of wonder to me1
 and of the terror of the splendor of   
the beauty of power4 ,the train is the  
voice of his life4 ,the sound of its    
coming is a psalm of strength4 ,it is as
 the singing a man would sing who felt  
his hand on the throttle of things4 ,the
 engine is a soul to me--soul of the    
quiet face thundering past--leading its 
troop of glories echoing along the      
hills1 telling it to the flocks in the  
fields and the birds in the air1 telling
 it to the trees and the buds and the   
little1 trembling growing things1 that  
the might of the spirit of man has      
passed that way4  ,if an engine is to be

 looked at from the point of view of the
 man who makes it and who knows it best2
 if it is to be taken1 as it has a right
 to be taken1 in the nature of things1  
as being an expression of the human     
spirit1 as being that man's way of      
expressing the human spirit1 there shall
 be no escape for the children of this  
present world1 from the wonder and      
beauty in it1 and the strong delight in 
it that shall hem life in1 and bound it 
round on every side4 ,the idealism and  
passion and devotion and poetry in an   
engineer1 in the feeling he has about   
his machine1 the power with which that  
machine expresses that feeling1 is one  
of the great typical living inspirations
 of this modern age1 a fragment of the  
new apocalypse1 vast and inarticulate   
and far and faint to us1 but striving to
 reach us still1 now from above1 and now
 from below1 and on every side of life4 
,it is as though the very ground itself 
should speak1--speak to our poor1       
pitiful1 unspiritual1 matter-despising  

souls1--should command them to come     
forth1 to live1 to gaze into the heart  
of matter for the heart of ,god4 ,it is 
so that the very dullest of us1 standing
 among our machines1 can hardly         
otherwise than guess the coming of some 
vast surprise1--the coming of the day   
when1 in the very rumble of the world1  
our sons and daughters shall prophesy1  
and our young men shall see visions1 and
 our old men shall dream dreams4 ,it    
cannot be uttered4 ,i do not dare to say
 it4 ,what it means to our religion and 
to our life and to our art1 this great  
athletic uplift of the world1 ,i do not 
know4 ,i only know that so long as the  
fine arts1 in an age like this1 look    
down on the mechanical arts there shall 
be no fine arts4 ,i only know that so   
long as the church worships the         
laborer's ,god1 but does not reverence  
labor1 there shall be no religion in it 
for men to-day1 and none for women and  
children to-morrow4 ,i only know that so
 long as there is no poet amongst us1   

who can put himself into a word1 as this
 man1 my brother the engineer1 is       
putting himself into his engine1 the    
engine shall remove mountains1 and the  
word of the poet shall not2 it shall be 
buried beneath the mountains4 ,i only   
know that so long as we have more       
preachers who can be hired to stop      
preaching or to go into life insurance  
than we have engineers who can be hired 
to leave their engines1 inspiration     
shall be looked for more in engine cabs 
than in pulpits1--the vestibule trains  
shall say deeper things than sermons    
say4 ,in the rhythm of the anthem of    
them singing along the rails1 we shall  
find again the worship we have lost in  
church1 the worship we fain would find  
in the simpered prayers and paid praises
 of a thousand choirs1--the worship of  
the creative spirit1 the beholding of a 
fragment of creation morning1 the       
watching of the delight of a man in the 
delight of ,god1--in the first and last 
delight of ,god4 ,i have made a vow in  

my heart4 ,i shall not enter a pulpit to
 speak1 unless every word have the joy  
of ,god and of fathers and mothers in   
it4 ,and so long as men are more        
creative and godlike in engines than    
they are in sermons1 ,i listen to       
engines4  ,would to ,god it were        
otherwise4 ,but so it shall be with all 
of us4 ,so it cannot but be4 ,not until 
the day shall come when this wistful1   
blundering church of ours1 loved with   
exceeding great and bitter love1 with   
all her proud and solitary towers1 shall
 turn to the voices of life sounding    
beneath her belfries in the street1     
shall she be worshipful2 not until the  
love of all life and the love of all    
love is her love1 not until all faces   
are her faces1 not until the face of the
 engineer peering from his cab1 sentry  
of a thousand souls1 is beautiful to    
her1 as an altar cloth is beautiful or a
 stained glass window is beautiful1     
shall the church be beautiful4 ,that day
 is bound to come4 ,if the church will  

not do it with herself1 the great rough 
hand of the world shall do it with the  
church4 ,that day of the new church     
shall be known by men because it will be
 a day in which all worship shall be    
gathered into her worship1 in which her 
holy house shall be the comradeship of  
all delights and of all masteries under 
the sun1 and all the masteries and all  
the delights shall be laid at her feet4 
,,vi  ,,prophets   ,the world follows   
the creative spirit4 ,where the spirit  
is creating1 the strong and the         
beautiful flock4 ,if the creative spirit
 is not in poetry1 poetry will call     
itself something else4 ,if it is not in 
the church1 religion will call itself   
something else4 ,it is the business of a
 living religion1 not to wish that the  
age it lives in were some other age1 but
 to tell what the age is for1 and what  
every man born in it is for4 ,a church  
that can see only what a few of the men 
born in an age are for1 can help only a 
few4 ,if a church does not believe in a 

particular man more than he believes in 
himself1 the less it tries to do for him
 the better4 ,if a church does not      
believe in a man's work as he believes  
in it1 does not see some divine meaning 
and spirit in it and give him honor and 
standing and dignity for the divine     
meaning in it2 if it is a church in     
which labor is secretly despised and in 
which it is openly patronized1 in which 
a man has more honor for working feebly 
with his brain than for working         
passionately and perfectly with his     
hands1 it is a church that stands       
outside of life4 ,it is excommunicated  
by the will of ,heaven and the nature of
 things1 from the only ,communion that  
is large enough for a man to belong to  
or for a ,god to bless4  ,if there is   
one sign rather than another of         
religious possibility and spiritual     
worth in the men who do the world's work
 with machines to-day1 it is that these 
men are never persuaded to attend a     
church that despises that work4         

,symposiums on how to reach the masses  
are pitiless irony4 ,there is no need   
for symposiums4 ,it is an open secret4  
,it cries upon the house-tops4 ,it calls
 above the world in the ,sabbath bells4 
,a church that believes less than the   
world believes shall lose its leadership
 in the world4 ,why should ,i pay pew   
rent1 says the man who sings with his   
hands1 to men who do not believe in me1 
to worship1 with men who do not believe 
in me1 a ,god that does not believe in  
me8 ,if heaven itself 7represented as a 
rich and idle place1--seats free in the 
evening7 were opened to the true        
laboring man on the condition that he   
should despise his hands by holding     
palms in them1 he would find some excuse
 for staying away4 ,he feels in no wise 
different with regard to his present    
life4 ,unless your ,god1 says the man   
who sings with his hands1 to those who  
pity him and do him good1--unless your  
,god is a ,god ,i can worship in a      
factory1 ,he is not a ,god ,i care to   

worship in a church4  ,behold it is     
written3 ,the church that does not      
delight in these men and in what these  
men are for1 as much as the street      
delights in them1 shall give way to the 
street4 ,the street is more beautiful4  
,if the street is not let into the      
church1 it shall sweep over the church  
and sweep around it1 shall pile the     
floors of its strength upon it1 above   
it4 ,from the roofs of labor--radiant   
and beautiful labor--shall men look down
 upon its towers4 ,only a church that   
believes more than the world believes   
shall lead the world4 ,it always leads  
the world4 ,it cannot help leading it4  
,the religion that lives in a machine   
age1 and that cannot see and feel1 and  
make others see and feel1 the meaning of
 that machine age1 is a religion which  
is not worthy of us4 ,it is not worthy  
of our machines4 ,one of the machines we
 have made could make a better religion 
than this4 ,even now1 almost everywhere 
in almost every town or city where one  

goes1 if one will stop or look up or    
listen1 one hears the chimneys teaching 
the steeples4 ,it would be blind for    
more than a few years more to be        
discouraged about modern religion4 ,the 
telephone1 the wireless telegraph1 the  
,x-rays1 and all the other great        
believers are singing up around it4 ,the
 very railroads are surrounding it and  
taking care of it4 ,a few years more and
 the steeples will stop hesitating and  
tottering in the sight of all the       
people4 ,they will no longer stand in   
fear before what the crowds of chimneys 
and railways and the miles of           
smokestacks sweeping past are saying to 
the people4  ,they will listen to what  
the smokestacks are saying to the       
people4  ,they will say it better4  ,in 
the meantime they are not listening4    
,religion and art at the present moment1
 both blindfolded and both with their   
ears stopped1 are being swept to the    
same irrevocable issue4 ,by all poets   
and prophets the same danger signal     

shall be seen spreading before them both
 jogging along their old highways4 ,it  
is the arm that reaches across the age4 
,,railroad ,,crossing     ,,look ,,out  
,,for ,,the ,,engine6     ,,part ,,ii4  
,,the ,,language ,,of ,,the ,,machines  
,i  ,,as ,,good ,,as ,,ours   ,one is   
always hearing it said that if a thing  
is to be called poetic it must have     
great ideas in it1 and must successfully
 express them4 ,the idea that there is  
poetry in machinery1 has to meet the    
objection that1 while a machine may have
 great ideas in it1 it does not look it4
 ,the average machine not only fails to 
express the idea that it stands for1 but
 it generally expresses something else4 
,the language of the average machine1   
when one considers what it is for1 what 
it is actually doing1 is not merely     
irrelevant or feeble4 ,it is often      
absurd4 ,it is a rare machine which1    
when one looks for poetry in it1 does   
not make itself ridiculous4  ,the only  
answer that can be made to this         

objection is that a steam-engine 7when  
one thinks of it7 really expresses      
itself as well as the rest of us4 ,all  
language is irrelevant1 feeble1 and     
absurd4 ,we live in an organically      
inexpressible world4 ,the language of   
everything in it is absurd4 ,judged     
merely by its outer signs1 the universe 
over our heads--with its cunning little 
stars in it--is the height of absurdity1
 as a self-expression4 ,the sky laughs  
at us4 ,we know it when we look in a    
telescope4 ,time and space are ,god's   
jokes4 ,looked at strictly in its outer 
language1 the whole visible world is a  
joke4 ,to suppose that ,god has ever    
expressed ,himself to us in it1 or to   
suppose that ,he could express ,himself 
in it1 or that any one can express      
anything in it1 is not to see the point 
of the joke4  ,we cannot even express   
ourselves to one another4 ,the language 
of everything we use or touch is absurd4
 ,nearly all of the tools we do our     
living with--even the things that human 

beings amuse themselves with--are       
inexpressive and foolish-looking4 ,golf 
and tennis and football have all been   
accused in turn1 by people who do not   
know them from the inside1 of being     
meaningless4 ,a golf-stick does not     
convey anything to the uninitiated1 but 
the bare sight of a golf-stick lying on 
a seat is a feeling to the one to whom  
it belongs1 a play of sense and spirit  
to him1 a subtle thrill in his arms4    
,the same is true of a new fiery-red    
baby1 which1 considering the fuss that  
is made about it1 to a comparative      
outsider like a small boy1 has always   
been from the beginning of the world a  
ridiculous and inadequate object4 ,a man
 could not possibly conceive1 even if he
 gave all his time to it1 of a more     
futile1 reckless1 hapless expression of 
or pointer to an immortal soul than a   
week-old baby wailing at time and space4
 ,the idea of a baby may be all right1  
but in its outer form1 at first1 at     
least1 a baby is a failure1 and always  

has been4 ,the same is true of our other
 musical instruments4 ,a horn           
caricatures music4 ,a flute is a man    
rubbing a black stick with his lips4 ,a 
trombone player is a monster4 ,we listen
 solemnly to the violin--the voice of an
 archangel with a board tucked under his
 chin--and to ,girardi's 'cello--a whole
 human race laughing and crying and     
singing to us between a boy's legs4 ,the
 eye-language of the violin has to be   
interpreted1 and only people who are    
cultivated enough to suppress whole     
parts of themselves 7rather useful and  
important parts elsewhere7 can enjoy a  
great opera--a huge conspiracy of       
symbolism1 every visible thing in it    
standing for something that can not be  
seen1 beckoning at something that cannot
 be heard4 ,nothing could possibly be   
more grotesque1 looked at from the      
outside or by a tourist from another    
planet or another religion1 than the    
celebration of the ,lord's ,supper in a 
,protestant church4 ,all things have    

their outer senses1 and these outer     
senses have to be learned one at a time 
by being flashed through with inner     
ones4 ,except to people who have tried  
it1 nothing could be more grotesque than
 kissing1 as a form of human expression4
 ,a reception--a roomful of people      
shouting at each other three inches     
away--is comical enough4 ,so is         
handshaking4 ,looked at from the        
outside1 what could be more unimpressive
 than the spectacle of the greatest     
dignitary of the ,united ,states put in 
a vise in his own house for three hours1
 having his hand squeezed by long rows  
of people8 ,and1 taken as a whole1      
scurrying about in its din1 what could  
possibly be more grotesque than a great 
city--a city looked at from almost any  
adequate1 respectable place for an      
immortal soul to look from--a star1 for 
instance1 or a beautiful life8  ,whether
 he is looked at by ants or by angels1  
every outer token that pertains to man  
is absurd and unfinished until some     

inner thing is put with it4 ,man himself
 is futile and comic-looking 7to the    
other animals71 rushing empty about     
space4 ,new ,york is a spectacle for a  
squirrel to laugh at1 and1 from the     
point of view of a mouse1 a man is a    
mere1 stupid1 sitting-down1             
skull-living1 desk-infesting animal4    
,all these things being true of         
expression--both the expression of men  
and of ,god--the fact that machines     
which have poetry in them do not express
 it very well does not trouble me much4 
,i do not forget the look of the first  
ocean-engine ,i ever saw--four or five  
stories of it2 nor do ,i forget the look
 of the ocean-engine's engineer as in   
its mighty heart-beat he stood with his 
strange1 happy1 helpless ,twelve        
thousand horse-power1 sir6 upon his     
lips4  ,that first night with my first  
engineer still follows me4 ,the time    
seems always coming back to me again    
when he brought me up from his whirl of 
wheels in the hold to the deck of stars1

 and left me--my new wonder all         
stumbling through me--alone with them   
and with my thoughts4    ,the engines   
breathe4   ,no sound but cinders on the 
sails   ,and the ghostly heave1   ,the  
voice the wind makes in the mast--      
,and dainty gales   ,and fluffs of mist 
and smoking stars   ,floating past--    
,from night-lit funnels4    ,in the wild
 of the heart of ,god ,i stand4   ,time 
and ,space   ,wheel past my face4       
,forever4 ,everywhere4   ,i alone4      
,beyond the ,here and ,there   ,now and 
,then   ,of men1   ,winds from the      
unknown   ,round me blow   ,blow to the 
unknown again4    ,out in its solitude  
,i hear the prow   ,beyond the          
silence-crowded decks   ,laughing and   
shouting   ,at ,night1   ,lashing the   
heads and necks   ,of the lifted seas1  
,that in their flight   ,urge onward    
,and rise and sweep and leap and sink   
,to the very brink   ,of ,heaven4       
,timber and steel and smoke   ,and      
,sleep   ,thousand-souled   ,a quiver1  

,a deadened thunder1   ,a vague and     
countless creep   ,through the hold1    
,the weird and dusky chariot lunges on  
,through ,fate4   ,from the lookout     
watch of my soul's eyes   ,above the    
houses of the deep   ,their shadowy     
haunches fall and rise   --,o'er the    
glimmer-gabled roofs   ,the flying of   
their hoofs1   ,through the wonder and  
the dark   ,where skies and waters meet 
,the shimmer of manes and knees   ,dust 
of seas444   ,the sound of breathing1   
urge1 confusion   ,and the beat1 the    
starlight beat   ,soft and far and      
stealthy-fleet   ,of the dim unnumbered 
trampling of their feet4     ,,ii  ,,on 
,,being ,,busy ,,and ,,still   ,one of  
the hardest things about being an       
inventor is that the machines 7excepting
 the poorer ones7 never show off4 ,the  
first time that the phonograph 7whose   
talking had been rumored of many months7
 was allowed to talk in public1 it      
talked to an audience in ,metuchen1 ,new
 ,jersey1 and1 much to ,mr4 ,edison's   

dismay1 everybody laughed4 ,instead of  
being impressed with the real idea of   
the phonograph--being impressed because 
it could talk at all--people were       
impressed because it talked through its 
nose4  ,the more modern a machine is1   
when a man stands before it and seeks to
 know it1--the more it expects of the   
man1 the more it appeals to his         
imagination and his soul1--the less it  
is willing to appeal to the outside of  
him4 ,if he will not look with his whole
 being at a twin-screw steamer1 he will 
not see it4 ,its poetry is under water4 
,this is one of the chief               
characteristics of the modern world1    
that its poetry is under water4 ,the old
 sidewheel steamer floundering around in
 the big seas1 pounding the air and     
water both with her huge1 showy paddles1
 is not so poetic-looking as the        
sailboat1 and the poetry in the sailboat
 is not so obvious1 so plainly on top1  
as in a gondola4  ,people who do not    
admit poetry in machinery in general    

admit that there is poetry in a ,dutch  
windmill1 because the poetry is in      
sight4 ,a ,dutch windmill flourishes4   
,the ,american windmill1 being improved 
so much that it does not flourish1 is   
supposed not to have poetry in it at    
all4 ,the same general principle holds  
good with every machine that has been   
invented4 ,the more the poet--that is1  
the inventor--works on it1 the less the 
poetry in it shows4 ,progress in a      
modern machine1 if one watches it in its
 various stages1 always consists in     
making a machine stop posing and get    
down to work4 ,the earlier locomotive1  
puffing helplessly along with a few cars
 on its crooked rails1 was much more    
fire-breathing1 dragon-like and         
picturesque than the present one1 and   
the locomotive that came next1 while    
very different1 was more impressive than
 the present one4 ,every one remembers  
it1--the important-looking1 bell-headed1
 woodpile-eating locomotive of thirty   
years ago1 with its noisy steam-blowing 

habits and its ceaseless water-drinking 
habits1 with its grim1 spreading        
cowcatcher and its huge plug-hat--who   
does not remember it--fussing up and    
down stations1 ringing its bell forever 
and whistling at everything in sight8   
,it was impossible to travel on a train 
at all thirty years ago without always  
thinking of the locomotive4 ,it shoved  
itself at people4 ,it was always doing  
things--now at one end of the train and 
now at the other1 ringing its bell down 
the track1 blowing in at the windows1 it
 fumed and spread enough in hauling     
three cars from ,boston to ,concord to  
get to ,chicago and back4 ,it was the   
poetic1 old-fashioned way that engines  
were made4 ,one takes a train from ,new 
,york to ,san ,francisco now1 and       
scarcely knows there is an engine on it4
 ,all he knows is that he is going1 and 
sometimes the going is so good he hardly
 knows that4  ,the modern engines1 the  
short-necked1 pin-headed1 large-limbed1 
silent ones1 plunging with smooth and   

splendid leaps down their aisles of     
space--engines without any faces1 blind1
 grim1 conquering1 lifting the          
world--are more poetic to some of us    
than the old engines were1 for the very 
reason that they are not so             
poetic-looking4 ,they are less showy1   
more furtive1 suggestive1 modern and    
perfect4  ,in proportion as a machine is
 modern it hides its face4 ,it refuses  
to look as poetic as it is2 and if it   
makes a sound1 it is almost always a    
sound that is too small for it1 or one  
that belongs to some one else4 ,the     
trolley-wire1 lifting a whole city home 
to supper1 is a giant with a falsetto   
voice4 ,the large-sounding1 the         
poetic-sounding1 is not characteristic  
of the modern spirit4 ,in so far as it  
exists at all in the modern age1 either 
in its machinery or its poetry1 it      
exists because it is accidental or left 
over4 ,there was a deep bass steamer on 
the ,mississippi once1 with a very small
 head of steam1 which any one would have

 admitted had poetry in                 
it--old-fashioned poetry4 ,every time it
 whistled it stopped4     ,,iii  ,,on   
,,not ,,showing ,,off   ,it is not true 
to say that the modern man does not care
 for poetry4 ,he does not care for      
poetry that bears on--or for eloquent   
poetry4 ,he cares for poetry in a new   
sense4 ,in the old sense he does not    
care for eloquence in anything4 ,the    
lawyer on the floor of ,congress who    
seeks to win votes by a show of         
eloquence is turned down4 ,votes are    
facts1 and if the votes are to be won1  
facts must be arranged to do it4 ,the   
doctor who stands best with the typical 
modern patient is not the most          
agreeable1 sociable1 jogging-about man a
 town contains1 like the doctor of the  
days gone by4 ,he talks less4 ,he even  
prescribes less1 and the reason that it 
is hard to be a modern minister 7already
 cut down from two hours and a half to  
twenty or thirty minutes7 is that one   
has to practise more than one can       

preach4  ,to be modern is to be         
suggestive and symbolic1 to stand for   
more than one says or looks--the little 
girl with her loom clothing twelve      
hundred people4 ,people like it4 ,they  
are used to it4 ,all life around them is
 filled with it4 ,the old-fashioned     
prayer-meeting is dying out in the      
modern church because it is a mere      
specialty in modern life4 ,the          
prayer-meeting recognizes but one way of
 praying1 and people who have a gift for
 praying that way go1 but the majority  
of people--people who have discovered   
that there are a thousand other ways of 
praying1 and who like them better--stay 
away4  ,when the telegraph machine was  
first thought of1 the words all showed  
on the outside4 ,when it was improved it
 became inner and subtle4 ,the messages 
were read by sound4 ,everything we have 
which improves at all improves in the   
same way4 ,the exterior conception of   
righteousness of a hundred years        
ago--namely1 that a man must do right   

because it is his duty--is displaced by 
the modern one1 the morally thorough    
one--namely1 that a man must do right   
because he likes it--do it from the     
inside4 ,the more improved righteousness
 is1 the less it shows on the outside4  
,the more modern righteousness is1 the  
more it looks like selfishness1 the     
better the modern world likes it1 and   
the more it counts4  ,on the whole1 it  
is against a thing rather than in its   
favor1 in the twentieth century1 that it
 looks large4 ,time was when if it had  
not been known as a matter of fact that 
,galileo discovered heaven with a glass 
three feet long1 men would have said    
that it would hardly do to discover     
heaven with anything less than six      
hundred feet long4 ,to the ancients1    
,galileo's instrument1 even if it had   
been practical1 would not have been     
poetic or fitting4 ,to the moderns1     
however1 the fact that ,galileo's       
star-tool was three feet long1 that he  
carried a new heaven about with him in  

his hands1 was half the poetry and      
wonder of it4 ,yet it was not so        
poetic-looking as the six-hundred-foot  
telescope invented later1 which never   
worked4  ,nothing could be more         
impressive than the original substantial
 ,r---- typewriter4 ,one felt1 every    
time he touched a letter1 as if he must 
have said a sentence4 ,it was like      
saying things with pile-drivers4 ,the   
machine obtruded itself at every point4 
,it flourished its means and ends4 ,it  
was a gesticulating machine4 ,one       
commenced every new line with his foot4 
,the same general principle may be seen 
running alike through machinery and     
through life4 ,the history of man is    
traced in water-wheels4 ,the overshot   
wheel belonged to a period when         
everything else--religion1 literature1  
and art--was overshot4 ,when1 as time   
passed on1 common men began to think1   
began to think under a little1 the      
,reformation came in--and the undershot 
wheel1 as a matter of course4 ,there is 

no denying that the overshot wheel is   
more poetic-looking--it does its work   
with twelve quarts of water at a time   
and shows every quart--but it soon      
develops into the undershot wheel1 which
 shows only the drippings of the water1 
and the undershot wheel develops into   
the turbine wheel1 which keeps          
everything out of sight--except its     
work4 ,the water in the six turbine     
wheels at ,niagara has sixty thousand   
horses in it1 but it is not nearly as   
impressive and poetic-looking as six    
turbine wheels' worth of water would    
be--wasted and going over the ,falls4   
,the main fact about the modern man as  
regards poetry is1 that he prefers      
poetry that has this reserved           
turbine-wheel trait in it4 ,it is       
because most of the poetry the modern   
man gets a chance to see to-day is      
merely going over the ,falls that poetry
 is not supposed to appeal to the modern
 man4 ,he supposes so himself4 ,he      
supposes that a dynamo 7forty           

street-cars on forty streets1 flying    
through the dark7 is not poetic1 but its
 whir holds him1 sense and spirit1      
spellbound1 more than any poetry that is
 being written4 ,the things that are    
hidden--the things that are spiritual   
and wondering--are the ones that appeal 
to him4 ,the idle1 foolish look of a    
magnet fascinates him4 ,he gropes in his
 own body silently1 harmlessly with the 
,x-ray1 and watches with awe the beating
 of his heart4 ,he glories in inner     
essences1 both in his life and in his   
art4 ,he is the disciple of the ,x-ray1 
the defier of appearances4 ,why should a
 man who has seen the inside of matter  
care about appearances1 either in little
 things or great8 ,or why argue about   
the man1 or argue about the man's ,god1 
or quibble with words8 ,perhaps he is   
matter4 ,perhaps he is spirit4 ,if he is
 spirit1 he is matter-loving spirit1 and
 if he is matter1 he is spirit-loving   
matter4 ,every time he touches a        
spiritual thing1 he makes it 7as ,god   

makes mountains out of sunlight7 a      
material thing4 ,every time he touches a
 material thing1 in proportion as he    
touches it mightily he brings out inner 
light in it4 ,he spiritualizes it4 ,he  
abandons the glistening brass           
knocker--pleasing symbol to the outer   
sense--for a tiny knob on his porch door
 and a far-away tinkle in his kitchen4  
,the brass knocker does not appeal to   
the spirit enough for the modern man1   
nor to the imagination4 ,he wants an    
inner world to draw on to ring a        
door-bell with4 ,he loves to wake the   
unseen4 ,he will not even ring a        
door-bell if he can help it4 ,he likes  
it better1 by touching a button1 to have
 a door-bell rung for him by a couple of
 metals down in his cellar chewing each 
other4 ,he likes to reach down twelve   
flights of stairs with a thrill on a    
wire and open his front door4 ,he may be
 seen riding in three stories along his 
streets1 but he takes his engines all   
off the tracks and crowds them into one 

engine and puts it out of sight4 ,the   
more a thing is out of the sight of his 
eyes the more his soul sees it and      
glories in it4 ,his fireplace is        
underground4 ,hidden water spouts over  
his head and pours beneath his feet     
through his house4 ,hidden light creeps 
through the dark in it4 ,the more might1
 the more subtlety4 ,he hauls the whole 
human race around the crust of the earth
 with a vapor made out of a solid4 ,he  
stops solids--sixty miles an hour--with 
invisible air4 ,he photographs the tone 
of his voice on a platinum plate4 ,his  
voice reaches across death with the     
platinum plate4 ,he is heard of the     
unborn4 ,if he speaks in either one of  
his worlds he takes two worlds to speak 
with4 ,he will not be shut in with one4 
,if he lives in either he wraps the     
other about him4 ,he makes men walk on  
air4 ,he drills out rocks with a cloud  
and he breaks open mountains with gas4  
,the more perfect he makes his machines 
the more spiritual they are1 the more   

their power hides itself4 ,the more the 
machines of the man loom in human life  
the more they reach down into silence1  
and into darkness4 ,their foundations   
are infinity4 ,the infinity which is the
 man's infinity is their infinity4 ,the 
machines grasp all space for him4 ,they 
lean out on ether4 ,they are the man's  
machines4 ,the man has made them and the
 man worships with them4 ,from the first
 breath of flame1 burning out the secret
 of the ,dust to the last shadow of the 
dust--the breathless1 soundless shadow  
of the dust1 which he calls             
electricity--the man worships the       
invisible1 the intangible4 ,electricity 
is his prophet4 ,it sums him up4 ,it    
sums up his modern world and the        
religion and the arts of his modern     
world4 ,out of all the machines that he 
has made the electric machine is the    
most modern because it is the most      
spiritual4 ,the empty and futile look of
 a trolley wire does not trouble the    
modern man4 ,it is his instinctive      

expression of himself4 ,all the habits  
of electricity are his habits4          
,electricity has the modern man's       
temperament--the passion of being       
invisible and irresistible4 ,the        
electric machine fills him with         
brotherhood and delight4 ,it is the     
first of the machines that he can not   
help seeing is like himself4 ,it is the 
symbol of the man's highest self4 ,his  
own soul beckons to him out of it4  ,and
 the more electricity grows the more    
like the man it grows1 the more         
spirit-like it is4 ,the telegraph wire  
around the globe is melted into the     
wireless telegraph4 ,the words of his   
spirit break away from the dust4 ,they  
envelop the earth like ether1 and ,human
 ,speech1 at last1 unconquerable1       
immeasurable1 subtle as the light of    
stars1--fights its way to ,god4  ,the   
man no longer gropes in the dull        
helpless ground or through the froth of 
heaven for the spirit4 ,having drawn to 
him the ,x-ray1 which makes spirit out  

of dust1 and the wireless telegraph1    
which makes earth out of air1 he delves 
into the deepest sea as a cloud4 ,he    
strides heaven4 ,he has touched the hem 
of the garment at last of               
,,electricity--the archangel of matter4 
,,iv  ,,on ,,making ,,people ,,proud    
,,of ,,the ,,world   ,religion consists 
in being proud of the ,creator4 ,poetry 
is largely the same feeling--a kind of  
personal joy one takes in the way the   
world is made and is being made every   
morning4 ,the true lover of nature is   
touched with a kind of cosmic family    
pride every time he looks up from his   
work--sees the night and morning1 still 
and splendid1 hanging over him4         
,probably if there were another universe
 than this one1 to go and visit in1 or  
if there were an extra ,creator we could
 go to--some of us--and boast about the 
one we have1 it would afford infinite   
relief among many classes of            
people--especially poets4  ,the most    
common sign that poetry1 real poetry1   

exists in the modern human heart is the 
pride that people are taking in the     
world4 ,the typical modern man1 whatever
 may be said or not said of his         
religion1 of his attitude toward the    
maker of the world1 has regular and     
almost daily habits of being proud of   
the world4  ,in the twentieth century   
the best way for a man to worship ,god  
is going to be to realize his own       
nature1 to recognize what he is for1 and
 be a god1 too4 ,we believe to-day that 
the best recognition of ,god consists in
 recognizing the fact that he is not a  
mere ,god who does divine things        
himself1 but a ,god who can make others 
do them4  ,looked at from the point of  
view of a mere ,god who does divine     
things himself1 an earthquake1 for      
instance1 may be called a rather feeble 
affair1 a slight jar to a ball going    
---- miles an hour--a ,creator could do 
little less1 if ,he gave a bare thought 
to it--but when ,i waked a few mornings 
ago and felt myself swinging in my own  

house as if it were a hammock1 and was  
told that some men down in ,hazardville1
 ,connecticut1 had managed to shake the 
planet like that1 with some gunpowder   
they had made1 ,i felt a new respect for
 ,messrs4 ---- and ,co4 ,i was proud of 
man1 my brother4 ,does he not shake     
loose the ,force of ,gravity--make the  
very hand of ,god to tremble8 ,to his   
thoughts the very hills1 with their     
hearts of stone1 make soft              
responses--when he thinks them4  ,the   
,corliss engine of ,machinery ,hall in  
'#gf1 under its sky of iron and glass1  
is remembered by many people the day    
they saw it first as one of the great   
experiences of life4 ,like some vast1   
,titanic spirit1 soul of a thousand1    
thousand wheels1 it stood to some of us1
 in its mighty silence there1 and       
wrought miracles4 ,to one               
twelve-year-old boy1 at least1 the      
thought of the hour he spent with that  
engine first is a thought he sings and  
prays with to this day4 ,his lips       

trembled before it4 ,he sought to hide  
himself in its presence4 ,why had no one
 ever taught him anything before8 ,as he
 looks back through his life there is   
one experience that stands out by itself
 in all those boyhood years--the choking
 in his throat--the strange grip upon   
him--upon his body and upon his soul--as
 of some awful unseen ,hand reaching    
down ,space to him1 drawing him up to   
,its might4 ,he was like a dazed child  
being held up before ,it--held up to an 
infinite fact1 that he might look at it 
again and again4  ,the first conception 
of what the life of man was like1 of    
what it might be like1 came to at least 
one immortal soul not from lips that he 
loved1 or from a face behind a pulpit1  
or a voice behind a desk1 but from a    
machine4 ,to this day that ,corliss     
engine is the engine of dreams1 the     
appeal to destiny1 to the imagination   
and to the soul4 ,it rebuilds the       
universe4 ,it is the opportunity of     
beauty throughout life1 the symbol of   

freedom1 the freedom of men1 and of the 
unity of nations1 and of the worship of 
,god4 ,in silence--like the soft far    
running of the sky--it wrought upon him 
there2 like some heroic human spirit1   
its finger on a thousand wheels1 through
 miles of aisles1 and crowds of gazers1 
it wrought4 ,the beat and rhythm of it  
was as the beat and rhythm of the heart 
of man mastering matter1 of the clay    
conquering ,god4  ,like some            
wonder-crowded chorus its voices        
surrounded me4 ,it was the first hearing
 of the psalm of life4 ,the hum and     
murmur of it was like the spell of ages 
upon me2 and the vision that floated in 
it--nay1 the vision that was builded in 
it--was the vision of the age to be3 the
 vision of ,man1 ,my ,brother1 after the
 singsong and dance and drone of his sad
 four thousand years1 lifting himself to
 the stature of his soul at last1       
lifting himself with the sun1 and with  
the rain1 and with the wind1 and the    
heat and the light1 into comradeship    

with ,creation morning1 and into        
something 7in our far-off1 wistful      
fashion7 of the might and gentleness of 
,god4  ,there seem to be two ways to    
worship ,him4 ,one way is to gaze upon  
the great ,machine that ,he has made1 to
 watch it running softly above us all1  
moonlight and starlight1 and winter and 
summer1 rain and snowflakes1 and growing
 things4 ,another way is to worship ,him
 not only because ,he has made the vast 
and still machine of creation1 in the   
beating of whose days and nights we live
 our lives1 but because ,he has made a  
,machine that can make machines--because
 out of the dust of the earth ,he has   
made a ,machine that shall take more of 
the dust of the earth1 and of the vapor 
of heaven1 crowd it into steel and iron 
and say1 ,go ye now1 depths of the      
earth--heights of heaven--serve ye me4  
,i1 too1 am ,god4 ,stones and mists1    
winds and waters and thunder--the spirit
 that is in thee is my spirit4 ,i       
also--even ,i also--am ,god6     ,v  ,a 

,,modest ,,universe   ,i have heard it  
objected that a machine does not take   
hold of a man with its great ideas while
 he stands and watches it4 ,it does not 
make him feel its great ideas4 ,and     
therefore it is denied that it is       
poetic4  ,the impressiveness of the bare
 spiritual facts of machinery is not    
denied4 ,what seems to be lacking in the
 machines from the artistic point of    
view at present is a mere knack of      
making the faces plain and              
literal-looking4 ,grasshoppers would be 
more appreciated by more people if they 
were made with microscopes on1--either  
the grasshoppers or the people4  ,if the
 mere machinery of a grasshopper's hop  
could be made plain and large enough1   
there is not a man living who would not 
be impressed by it4 ,if grasshoppers    
were made 7as they might quite as easily
 have been7 #fdj feet high1 the huge    
beams of their legs above their bodies  
towering like cranes against the        
horizon1 the sublimity of a             

grasshopper's machinery--the huge levers
 of it1 his hops across valleys from    
mountain to mountain1 shadowing fields  
and villages--would have been one of the
 impressive features of human life4     
,everybody would be willing to admit of 
the mere machinery of a grasshopper1 7if
 there were several acres of it7 that   
there was creative sublimity in it4     
,they would admit that the bare idea of 
having such a stately piece of machinery
 in a world at all1 slipping softly     
around on it1 was an idea with creative 
sublimity in it2 and yet these same     
people because the sublimity1 instead of
 being spread over several acres1 is    
crowded into an inch and a quarter1 are 
not impressed by it4  ,but it is        
objected1 it is not merely a matter of  
spiritual size4 ,there is something more
 than plainness lacking in the symbolism
 of machinery4 ,the symbolism of        
machinery is lacking in fitness4 ,it is 
not poetic4 ,a thing can only be said to
 be poetic in proportion as its form    

expresses its nature4 ,mechanical       
inventions may stand for impressive     
facts1 but such inventions1 no matter   
how impressive the facts may be1 cannot 
be called poetic unless their form      
expresses those facts4 ,a horse plunging
 and champing his bits on the eve of    
battle1 for instance1 is impressive to a
 man1 and a pill-box full of dynamite1  
with a spark creeping toward it1 is not4
  ,that depends partly on the man and   
partly on the spark4 ,a man may not be  
impressed by a pill-box full of dynamite
 and a spark creeping toward it1 the    
first time he sees it1 but the second   
time he sees it1 if he has time1 he is  
impressed enough4 ,he does not stand and
 criticise the lack of expression in    
pill-boxes1 nor wait to remember the day
 when he all but lost his life because  
,a pill-box by the river's brim   ,a    
simple pill-box was to him   ,and       
nothing more4  ,wordsworth in these     
memorable lines has summed up and       
brought to an issue the whole matter of 

poetry in machinery4 ,everything has its
 language1 and the power of feeling what
 a thing means1 by the way it looks1 is 
a matter of experience--of learning the 
language4 ,the language is there4 ,the  
fact that the language of the machine is
 a new language1 and a strangely subtle 
one1 does not prove that it is not a    
language1 that its symbolism is not     
good1 and that there is not poetry in   
machinery4  ,the inventor need not be   
troubled because in making his machine  
it does not seem to express4 ,it is     
written that neither you nor ,i1 comrade
 nor ,god1 nor any man1 nor any man's   
machine1 nor ,god's machine1 in this    
world shall express or be expressed4 ,if
 it is the meaning of life to us to be  
expressed in it1 to be all-expressed1 we
 are indeed sorry1 dumb1 plaintive      
creatures dotting a star awhile1        
creeping about on it1 warmed by a heater
 ninety-five million miles away4 ,the   
machine of the universe itself1 does not
 express its ,inventor4 ,it does not    

even express the men who are under it4  
,the ninety-five millionth mile waits on
 us silently1 at the doorways of our    
souls night and day1 and we wait on     
,,it4 ,is it not ,,there8 ,is it not    
,,here--this ninety-five millionth mile8
 ,it is ours4 ,it runs in our veins4    
,why should ,man--a being who can live  
forever in a day1 who is born of a      
boundless birth1 who takes for his      
fireside the immeasurable--express or   
expect to be expressed8 ,what we would  
like to be--even what we are--who can   
say8 ,our music is an apostrophe to     
dumbness4 ,the ,pantomime above us rolls
 softly1 resistlessly on1 over the      
pantomime within us4 ,we and our        
machines1 both1 hewing away on the      
infinite1 beckon and are still4  ,i am  
not troubled because the machines do not
 seem to express themselves4 ,i do not  
know that they can express themselves4  
,i know that when the day is over1 and  
strength is spent1 and my soul looks out
 upon the great plain--upon the soft1   

night-blooming cities1 with their huge  
machines striving in sleep1 might lifts 
itself out upon me4 ,i rest4  ,i know   
that when ,i stand before a foundry     
hammering out the floors of the world1  
clashing its awful cymbals against the  
night1 ,i lift my soul to it1 and in    
some way--,i know not how--while it     
sings to me ,i grow strong and glad4    
,,part ,,three  ,,the ,,machines ,,as   
,,poets     ,i  ,,plato ,,and ,,the     
,,general ,,electric ,,works   ,i have  
an old friend who lives just around the 
corner from one of the main lines of    
travel in ,new ,england1 and whenever ,i
 am passing near by and the railroads   
let me1 ,i drop in on him awhile and    
quarrel about art4 ,it's a good         
old-fashioned comfortable1 disorderly   
conversation we have generally1 the kind
 people used to have more than they do  
now--sketchy and not too wise--the kind 
that makes one think of things one      
wishes one had said1 afterward4  ,we    
always drift a little at first1 as if of

 course we could talk about other things
 if we wanted to1 but we both know1 and 
know every time1 that in a few minutes  
we shall be deep in a discussion of the 
,things ,that ,are ,beautiful and the   
,things ,that ,are ,not4  ,brim thinks  
that ,i have picked out more things to  
be beautiful than ,i have a right to1 or
 than any man has1 and he is trying to  
put a stop to it4 ,he thinks that there 
are enough beautiful things in this     
world that have been beautiful a long   
while1 without having people--well1     
people like me1 for instance1 poking    
blindly around among all these modern   
brand-new things hoping that in spite of
 appearances there is something one can 
do with them that will make them        
beautiful enough to go with the rest4   
,i'm afraid ,brim gets a little personal
 in talking with me at times and ,i     
might as well say that1 while           
disagreeing in a conversation with ,brim
 does not lead to calling names it does 
seem to lead logically to one's going   

away1 and trying to find afterwards1    
some thing that is the matter with him4 
,the trouble with you1 my dear ,brim1   
is1 ,i say 7on paper1 afterwards1 as the
 train speeds away71 that you have a    
false-classic or ,stucco-,greek mind4   
,the ,greeks1 the real ,greeks1 would   
have liked all these things--trolley    
cars1 cables1 locomotives1--seen the    
beautiful in them1 if they had to do    
their living with them every day1 the   
way we do4 ,you would say you were more 
,greek than ,i am1 but when one thinks  
of it1 you are just going around liking 
the things the ,greeks liked #cjjj years
 ago1 and ,i am around liking the things
 a ,greek would like now1 that is1 as   
well as ,i can4 ,i don't flatter myself 
,i begin to enjoy the wireless telegraph
 to-day the way ,plato would if he had  
the chance1 and ,alcibiades in an       
automobile would get a great deal more  
out of it1 ,i suspect1 than anyone ,i   
have seen in one1 so far2 and ,i suspect
 that if ,socrates could take ,bliss    

,carman and1 say1 ,william ,watson      
around with him on a tour of the        
,general ,electric ,works in            
,schenectady they wouldn't either of    
them write sonnets about anything else  
for the rest of their natural lives4  ,i
 can only speak for one and ,i do not   
begin to see the poetry in the machines 
that a ,greek would see1 as yet4  ,but  
,i have seen enough4  ,i have seen      
engineers go by1 pounding on this       
planet1 making it small enough1 welding 
the nations together before my eyes4  ,i
 have seen inventors1 still men by lamps
 at midnight with a whirl of visions1   
with a whirl of thoughts1 putting in new
 drivewheels on the world4  ,i have seen
 7in ,schenectady17 all those men--the  
five thousand of them--the grime on     
their faces and the great caldrons of   
melted railroad swinging above their    
heads4 ,i have stood and watched them   
there with lightning and with flame     
hammering out the wills of cities1      
putting in the underpinnings of nations1

 and it seemed to me me that ,bliss     
,carman and ,william ,watson would not  
be ashamed of them 444 brother-artists  
every one 444 in the glory 444 in the   
dark 444 ,vulcan-,tennysons1 blacksmiths
 to a planet1 with dredges1 skyscrapers1
 steam shovels and wireless telegraphs1 
hewing away on the heavens and the      
earth4     ,,ii  ,,hewing ,,away ,,on   
,,the ,,heavens ,,and ,,the ,,earth     
,the poetry of machinery to-day is a    
mere matter of fact--a part of the daily
 wonder of life to countless silent     
people4 ,the next thing the world wants 
to know about machinery is not that     
there is poetry in it1 but that the     
poetry which the common people have     
already found there1 has a right to be  
there4 ,we have the fact4 ,it is the    
theory to put with the fact which       
concerns us next and which really       
troubles us most4 ,there are very few of
 us1 on the whole1 who can take any     
solid comfort in a fact--no matter what 
it is--until we have a theory to approve

 of it with4 ,its merely being a fact   
does not seem to make very much         
difference4  #a4 ,machinery has poetry  
in it because it is an expression of the
 soul4  #b4 ,it expresses the soul 7#a7 
of the individual man who creates the   
machine--the inventor1 and 7#b7 the man 
who lives with the machine the engineer4
  #c4 ,it expresses ,god1 if only that  
,he is a ,god who can make men who can  
thus express their souls4 ,machinery is 
an act of worship in the least sense if 
not in the greatest4 ,if a man who can  
make machines like this is not clever   
enough with all his powers to find a    
,god1 and to worship a ,god1 he can     
worship himself4 ,it is because the     
poetry of machinery is the kind of      
poetry that does immeasurable things    
instead of immeasurably singing about   
them that it has been quite generally   
taken for granted that it is not poetry 
at all4 ,the world has learned more of  
the purely poetic idea of freedom from a
 few dumb1 prosaic machines that have   

not been able to say anything beautiful 
about it than from the poets of twenty  
centuries4 ,the machine frees a hundred 
thousand men and smokes4 ,the poet      
writes a thousand lines on freedom and  
has his bust in ,westminster ,abbey4    
,the blacks in ,america were freed by   
,abraham ,lincoln and the cotton gin4   
,the real argument for unity--the       
argument against secession--was the     
locomotive4 ,no one can fight the       
locomotive very long4 ,it makes the     
world over into one world whether it    
wants to be one world or not4 ,china is 
being conquered by steamships4 ,it      
cannot be said that the idea of unity is
 a new one4 ,seers and poets have made  
poetry out of it for two thousand years4
 ,machinery is making the poetry mean   
something4 ,every new invention in      
matter that comes to us is a spiritual  
masterpiece4 ,it is crowded with ideas4 
,the ,bessemer process has more         
political philosophy in it than was ever
 dreamed of in ,shelley's poetry1 and it

 would not be hard to show that the     
invention of the sewing machine was one 
of the most literary and artistic as    
well as one of the most religious events
 of the nineteenth century4 ,the loom is
 the most beautiful thought that any one
 has ever had about ,woman1 and the     
printing press is more wonderful than   
anything that has ever been said on it4 
,this is all very true1 interrupts the  
,logical ,person1 about printing presses
 and looms and everything else--one     
could go on forever--but it does not    
prove anything4 ,it may be true that the
 loom has made twenty readers for       
,robert ,browning's poetry where        
,browning would have made but one1 but  
it does not follow that because the loom
 has freed women for beauty that the    
loom is beautiful1 or that it is a fit  
theme for poetry4 ,besides--breaks in   
the ,minor ,poet--there is a difference 
between a thing's being full of big     
ideas and its being beautiful4 ,a       
foundry is powerful and interesting1 but

 is it beautiful the way an electric    
fountain is beautiful or a sonnet or a  
doily8  ,this brings to a point the     
whole question as to where the          
definition of beauty--the boundary line 
of beauty--shall be placed4 ,a thing's  
being considered beautiful is largely a 
matter of size4 ,the question ,is a     
thing beautiful8 resolves itself into   
,how large has a beautiful thing a right
 to be8 ,a man's theory of beauty       
depends1 in a universe like this1 upon  
how much of the universe he will let    
into it4 ,if he is afraid of the        
universe if he only lets his thoughts   
and passions live in a very little of   
it1 he is apt to assume that if a       
beautiful thing rises into the sublime  
and immeasurable--suggests boundless    
ideas--the beauty is blurred out of it4 
,it is something--there is no denying   
that it is something--but1 whatever it  
is or is not1 it is not beauty4 ,nearly 
everything in our modern life is getting
 too big to be beautiful4 ,our poets are

 dumb because they see more poetry than 
their theories have room for4 ,the      
fundamental idea of the poetry of       
machinery is infinity4 ,our theories of 
poetry were made--most of them--before  
infinity was discovered4  ,infinity     
itself is old1 and the idea that        
infinity exists--a kind of huge1 empty  
rim around human life--is not a new idea
 to us1 but the idea that this same     
infinity has or can have anything to do 
with us or with our arts1 or our        
theories of art1 or that we have        
anything to do with ,,it1 is an         
essentially modern discovery4 ,the      
actual experience of infinity--that is1 
the experience of being infinite        
7comparatively speaking7--as in the use 
of machinery1 is a still more modern    
discovery4 ,there is no better way      
perhaps1 of saying what modern machinery
 really is1 than to say that it is a    
recent invention for being infinite4    
,the machines of the world are all      
practically engaged in manufacturing the

 same thing4 ,they are all              
time-and-space-machines4 ,they knit time
 and space4 ,hundreds of thousands of   
things may be put in machines this very 
day1 for us1 before night falls1 but    
only eternity and infinity shall be     
turned out4 ,sometimes it is called one 
and sometimes the other4 ,if a man is   
going to be infinite or eternal it makes
 little difference which4 ,it is merely 
a matter of form whether one is         
everywhere a few years1 or anywhere     
forever4 ,a sewing machine is as much a 
means of communication as a printing    
press or a locomotive4 ,the locomotive  
takes a woman around the world4 ,the    
sewing machine gives her a new world    
where she is4 ,at every point where a   
machine touches the life of a human     
being1 it serves him with a new measure 
of infinity4  ,this would seem to be a  
poetic thing for a machine to do4       
,traditional poetry does not see any    
poetry in it1 because1 according to our 
traditions poetry has fixed boundary    

lines1 is an old1 established           
institution in human life1 and infinity 
is not4  ,no one has wanted to be       
infinite before4 ,poetry in the ancient 
world was largely engaged in protecting 
people from the ,infinite4 ,they were   
afraid of it4 ,they could not help      
feeling that the ,infinite was over     
them4 ,worship consisted in propitiating
 it1 poetry in helping people to forget 
it4 ,with the exception of ,job1 the    
,hebrews almost invariably employed a   
poet--when they could get one--as a kind
 of transfigured policeman--to keep the 
sky off4 ,it was what was expected of   
poets4  ,the ,greeks did the same thing 
in a different way4 ,the only difference
 was1 that the ,greeks1 instead of      
employing their poets to keep the sky   
off1 employed them to make it as much   
like the earth as possible--a kind of   
raised platform which was less dreadful 
and more familiar and homelike and      
answered the same general purpose4 ,in  
other words1 the sky became beautiful to

 the ,greek when he had made it small   
enough4 ,making it small enough was the 
only way a ,greek knew of making it     
beautiful4  ,galileo knew another way4  
,it is because ,galileo knew another    
way--because he knew that the way to    
make the sky beautiful1 was to make it  
large enough--that men are living in a  
new world4 ,a new religion beats down   
through space to us4 ,a new poetry lifts
 away the ceilings of our dreams4 ,the  
old sky1 with its little tent of stars1 
its film of flame and darkness burning  
over us1 has floated to the past4 ,the  
twentieth century--the home of the      
,infinite--arches over our human lives4 
,the heaven is no longer1 to the sons of
 men1 a priests' wilderness1 nor is it a
 poet's heaven--a paper1 painted heaven1
 with little painted paper stars in it1 
to hide the wilderness4  ,it is a new   
heaven4 ,who1 that has lived these      
latter years1 that has seen it crashing 
and breaking through the old one1 can   
deny that what is over us now is a new  

heaven8 ,the infinite cave of it1       
scooped out at last over our little     
naked1 foolish lives1 our running-about 
philosophies1 our religions1 and our    
governments--it is the main fact about  
us4 ,arts and literatures--ants under a 
stone1 thousands of years1 blind with   
light1 hither and thither1 racing about1
 hiding themselves4  ,but not long for  
dreams4 ,more than this4 ,the new heaven
 is matched by a new earth4 ,men who see
 a new heaven make a new earth4 ,in its 
cloud of steam1 in a kind of splendid1  
silent stammer of praise and love1 the  
new earth lifts itself to the new       
heaven1 lifts up days out of nights to  
,it1 digs wells for winds under ,it1    
lights darkness with falling water1     
makes ice out of vapor1 and heat out of 
cold1 draws down ,space with engines1   
makes years out of moments with         
machines4 ,it is a new world and all the
 men that are born upon it are new      
widemoving1 cloud and mountain-moving   
men4 ,the habits of stars and waters1   

the huge habits of space and time1 are  
the habits of the men4  ,the ,infinite1 
at last1 which in days gone by hung over
 us--the mere hiding place of ,death1   
the awful living-room of ,god--is the   
neighborhood of human life4  ,machinery 
has poetry in it because in expressing  
the soul it expresses the greatest idea 
that the soul of man can have1 namely1  
the idea that the soul of man is        
infinite1 or capable of being infinite4 
,machinery has poetry in it also not    
merely because it is the symbol of      
infinite power in human life1 or because
 it makes man think he is infinite1 but 
because it is making him as infinite as 
he thinks he is4 ,the infinity of man is
 no longer a thing that the poet        
takes--that he makes an idea out        
of--,machinery makes it a matter of     
fact4     ,,iii  ,,the ,,grudge         
,,against ,,the ,,infinite   ,the main  
thing the nineteenth century has done in
 literature has been the gradual sorting
 out of poets into two classes--those   

who like the infinite1 who have a       
fellow-feeling for it1 and those who    
have not4 ,it seems reasonable to say   
that the poets who have habits of       
infinity1 of space-conquering 7like our 
vast machines71 who seek the suggestive 
and immeasurable in the things they see 
about them--poets who like infinity1    
will be the poets to whom we will have  
to look to reveal to us the             
characteristic and real poetry of this  
modern world4 ,the other poets1 it is to
 be feared1 are not even liking the     
modern world1 to say nothing of singing 
in it4 ,they do not feel at home in it4 
,the classic-walled poet seems to feel  
exposed in our world4 ,it is too        
savagely large1 too various and         
unspeakable and unfinished4 ,he looks at
 the sky of it--the vast1 unkempt1      
unbounded sky of it1 to which it sings  
and lifts itself--with a strange1 cold1 
hidden dread down in his heart4 ,to him 
it is a mere vast1 dizzy1 dreary1       
troubled formlessness4 ,its             

literature--its art with its infinite   
life in it1 is a blur of vagueness4 ,he 
complains because mobs of images are    
allowed in it4 ,it is full of huddled   
associations4 ,when ,carlyle appeared1  
the ,stucco-,greek mind grudgingly      
admitted that he was 'effective4' ,a man
 who could use words as other men used  
things1 who could put a pen down on     
paper in such a way as to lift men out  
from the boundaries of their lives and  
make them live in other lives and in    
other ages1 who could lend them his own 
soul1 had to have something said about  
him2 something very good and so it was  
said1 but he was not an artist4 ,from   
the same point of view and to the same  
people ,browning was a mere great man   
7that is3 a merely infinite man74 ,he   
was a man who went about living and     
loving things1 with a few blind words   
opening the eyes of the blind4 ,it had  
to be admitted that ,robert ,browning   
could make men who had never looked at  
their brothers' faces dwell for days in 

their souls1 but he was not a poet4     
,richard ,wagner1 too1 seer1 lover1     
singer1 standing in the turmoil of his  
violins conquering a new heaven for us1 
had great conceptions and was a musical 
genius without the slightest doubt1 but 
he was not an artist4 ,he never worked  
his conceptions out4 ,his scores are    
gorged with mere suggestiveness4 ,they  
are nothing if they are not played again
 and again4 ,for twenty or thirty years 
,richard ,wagner was outlawed because   
his music was infinitely unfinished     
7like the music of the spheres74 ,people
 seemed to want him to write cosy1      
homelike music4     ,,iv  ,,symbolism   
,,in ,,modern ,,art    ,so ,i drop      
downward from the wonderment   ,of      
timelessness and space1 in which were   
blent   ,the wind1 the sunshine and the 
wanderings   ,of all the planets--to the
 little things   ,that are my grass and 
flowers1 and am content4   ,this        
prejudice against the infinite1 or      
desire to avoid as much as possible all 

personal contact with it1 betrays itself
 most commonly1 perhaps1 in people who  
have what might be called the domestic  
feeling1 who consciously or             
unconsciously demand the domestic touch 
in a landscape before they are ready to 
call it beautiful4 ,the typical         
,american woman1 unless she has unusual 
gifts or training1 if she is left       
entirely to herself1 prefers nice       
cuddlesome scenery4 ,even if her        
imagination has been somewhat cultivated
 and deepened1 so that she feels that a 
place must be wild1 or at least partly  
wild1 in order to be beautiful1 she     
still chooses nooks and ravines1 as a   
rule1 to be happy in--places roofed in  
with gentle1 quiet wonder1 fenced in    
with beauty on every side4 ,she is not  
without her due respect and admiration  
for a mountain1 but she does not want it
 to be too large1 or too near the stars1
 if she has to live with it day and     
night2 and if the truth were told--even 
at its best she finds a mountain        

distant1 impersonal1 uncompanionable4   
,unless she is born in it she does not  
see beauty in the wide plain4 ,there is 
something in her being that makes her   
bashful before a whole sky2 she wants a 
sunset she can snuggle up to4 ,it is    
essentially the bird's taste in scenery4
 ,give me a nest1 ,o ,lord1 under the   
wide heaven4 ,cover me from ,thy glory4 
,a bush or a tree with two or three     
other bushes or trees near by1 and just 
enough sky to go with it--is it not     
enough8  ,the average man is like the   
average woman in this regard except that
 he is less so4 ,the fact seems to be   
that the average human being 7like the  
average poet71 at least for everyday    
purposes1 does not want any more of the 
world around him than he can use1 or    
than he can put somewhere4 ,if there is 
so much more of the world than one can  
use1 or than anyone else can use1 what  
is the possible object of living where  
one cannot help being reminded of it8   
,the same spiritual trait1 a kind of    

gentle persistent grudge against the    
infinite1 shows itself in the not       
uncommon prejudice against pine trees4  
,there are a great many people who have 
a way of saying pleasant things about   
pine trees and who like to drive through
 them or look at them in the landscape  
or have them on other people's hills1   
but they would not plant a pine tree    
near their houses or live with pines    
singing over them and watching them1    
every day and night1 for the world4 ,the
 mood of the pine is such a vast1 still1
 hypnotic1 imperious mood that there are
 very few persons1 no matter how dull or
 unsusceptible they may seem to be1 who 
are not as much affected by a single    
pine1 standing in a yard by a doorway1  
as they are by a whole skyful of        
weather4 ,if they are down on the       
infinite--they do not want a whole      
treeful of it around on the premises4   
,and the pine comes as near to being    
infinite as anything purely vegetable1  
in a world like this1 could expect4 ,it 

is the one tree of all others that      
profoundly suggests1 every time the     
light falls upon it or the wind stirs   
through it1 ,,the ,,things ,,that ,,man 
,,cannot ,,touch4 ,woven out of air and 
sunlight and its shred of dust1 it      
always seems to stand the monument of   
the woods1 to ,the ,intangible1 and ,the
 ,invisible1 to the spirituality of     
matter4 ,who shall find a tree that     
looks down upon the spirit of the pine8 
,and who1 who has ever looked upon the  
pines--who has seen them climbing the   
hills in crowds1 drinking at the        
sun--has not felt that however we may   
take to them personally they are the    
,chosen ,people among the trees8 ,to    
pass from the voice of them to the voice
 of the common leaves is to pass from   
the temple to the street4 ,in the rest  
of the forest all the leaves seem to be 
full of one another's din--of rattle and
 chatter--heedless1 happy chaos1 but in 
the pines the voice of every pine-spill 
is as a chord in the voice of all the   

rest1 and the whole solemn1 measured    
chant of it floats to us as the voice of
 the sky itself4 ,it is as if all the   
mystical1 beautiful far-things that     
human spirits know had come from the    
paths of ,space1 and from the presence  
of ,god1 to sing in the tree-trunks over
 our heads4  ,now it seems to me that   
the supremacy of the pine in the        
imagination is not that it is more      
beautiful in itself than other trees1   
but that the beauty of the pine seems   
more symbolic than other beauty1 and    
symbolic of more and of greater things4 
,it is full of the sturdiness and       
strength of the ground1 but it is of all
 trees the tree to see the sky with1 and
 its voice is the voice of the horizons1
 the voice of the marriage of the       
heavens and the earth2 and not only is  
there more of the sky in it1 and more of
 the kingdom of the air and of the place
 of ,sleep1 but there is more of the    
fiber and odor from the solemn heart of 
the earth4 ,no other tree can be        

mutilated like the pine by the hand of  
man and still keep a certain earthy1    
unearthly dignity and beauty about it   
and about all the place where it stands4
 ,a whole row of them1 with their left  
arms cut off for passing wires1 standing
 severe and stately1 their bare trunks  
against heaven1 cannot help being       
beautiful4 ,the beauty is symbolic and  
infinite4 ,it cannot be taken away4 ,if 
the entire street-side of a row of      
common1 ordinary middle-class trees were
 cut away there would be nothing to do  
with the maimed and helpless things but 
to cut them down--remove their misery   
from all men's sight4 ,to lop away the  
half of a pine is only to see how       
beautiful the other half is4 ,the other 
half has the infinite in it4 ,however   
little of a pine is left it suggests    
everything there is4 ,it points to the  
universe and beckons to the ,night and  
the ,day4 ,the infinite still speaks in 
it4 ,it is the optimist1 the prophet of 
trees4 ,in the sad lands it but grows   

more luxuriantly1 and it is the spirit  
of the tropics in the snows4 ,it is the 
touch of the infinite--of               
everywhere--wherever its shadow falls4  
,i have heard the sound of a hammer in  
the street and it was the sound of a    
hammer4 ,in the pine woods it was a     
hundred guns4 ,as the cloud catches the 
great empty spaces of night out of      
heaven and makes them glorious the pine 
gathers all sound into itself--echoes it
 along the infinite4  ,the pine may be  
said to be the symbol of the beauty in  
machinery1 because it is beautiful the  
way an electric light is beautiful1 or  
an electric-lighted heaven4 ,it has the 
two kinds of beauty that belong to life3
 finite beauty1 in that its beauty can  
be seen in itself1 and infinite beauty  
in that it makes itself the symbol1 the 
center1 of the beauty that cannot be    
seen1 the beauty that dwells around it4 
,what is going to be called the typical 
power of the colossal art1              
myriad-nationed1 undreamed of men       

before1 now gathering in our modern     
life1 is its symbolic power1 its power  
of standing for more than itself4       
,every great invention of modern        
mechanical art and modern fine art has  
held within it an extraordinary power of
 playing upon associations1 of playing  
upon the spirits and essences of things 
until the outer senses are all gathered 
up1 led on1 and melted1 as outer senses 
were meant to be melted1 into inner     
ones4 ,what is wrought before the eyes  
of a man at last by a great modern      
picture is not the picture that fronts  
him on the wall1 but a picture behind   
the picture1 painted with the flame of  
the heart on the eternal part of him4   
,it is the business of a great modern   
work of art to bring a man face to face 
with the greatness from which it came4  
,millet's ,angelus is a portrait of the 
infinite1--and a man and a woman4 ,a    
picture with this feeling of the        
infinite painted in it--behind it--which
 produces this feeling of the infinite  

in other men by playing upon the        
infinite in their own lives1 is a       
typical modern masterpiece4  ,the days  
when the infinite is not in our own     
lives we do not see it4 ,if the infinite
 is in our own lives1 and we do not like
 it there1 we do not like it in a       
picture1 or in the face of a man1 or in 
a ,corliss engine--a picture of the face
 of ,all-,man1 mastering the            
earth--silent--lifted to heaven4     ,v 
,,the ,,machines ,,as ,,artists   ,it is
 not necessary1 in order to connect a   
railway train with the infinite1 to see 
it steaming along a low sky and plunging
 into a huge white hill of cloud1 as ,i 
did the other day4 ,it is quite as      
infinite flying through granite in      
,hoosac ,mountain4 ,most people who do  
not think there is poetry in a railway  
train are not satisfied with flying     
through granite as a trait of the       
infinite in a locomotive1 and yet these 
same people1 if a locomotive could be   
lifted bodily to where infinity is or is

 supposed to be 7up in the sky          
somewhere7--if they could watch one     
night after night plowing through       
planets--would want a poem written about
 it at once4  ,a man who has a theory he
 does not see poetry in a locomotive1   
does not see it because theoretically he
 does not connect it with infinite      
things3 the things that poetry is       
usually about4 ,the idea that the       
infinite is not cooped up in heaven1    
that it can be geared and run on a track
 7and be all the more infinite for not  
running off the track71 does not occur  
to him4 ,the first thing he does when he
 is told to look for the infinite in the
 world is to stop and think a moment1   
where he is1 and then look for it       
somewhere else4  ,it would seem to be   
the first idea of the infinite1 in being
 infinite1 not to be anywhere else4 ,it 
could not be anywhere else if it tried2 
and if a locomotive is a real thing1 a  
thing wrought in and out of the fiber of
 the earth and of the lives of men1 the 

infinity and poetry in it are a matter  
of course4 ,i like to think that it is  
merely a matter of seeing a locomotive  
as it is1 of seeing it in enough of its 
actual relations as it is1 to feel that 
it is beautiful2 that the beauty1 the   
order1 the energy1 and the restfulness  
of the whole universe are pulsing there 
through its wheels4  ,the times when we 
do not feel poetry in a locomotive are  
the times when we are not matter-of-fact
 enough4 ,we do not see it in enough of 
its actual relations4 ,being            
matter-of-fact enough is all that makes 
anything poetic4 ,everything in the     
universe1 seen as it is1 is seen as the 
symbol1 the infinitely connected1       
infinitely crowded symbol of everything 
else in the universe--the summing up of 
everything else--another whisper of     
,god's4  ,have ,i not seen the great    
,sun ,itself1 from out of its huge      
heaven1 packed in a seed and blown about
 on a wind8 ,i have seen the leaves of  
the trees drink all night from the      

stars1 and when ,i have listened with my
 soul--thousands of years--,i have heard
 ,the ,night and ,the ,day creeping     
softly through mountains4 ,people called
 it geology4  ,it seems that if a man   
cannot be infinite by going to the      
infinite1 he is going to be infinite    
where he is4 ,he is carving it on the   
hills1 tunneling it through the rocks of
 the earth1 piling it up on the crust of
 it1 with winds and waters and flame and
 steel he is writing it on all          
things--that he is infinite1 that he    
will be infinite4 ,the whole planet is  
his signature4  ,if what the modern man 
is trying to say in his modern age is   
his own infinity1 it naturally follows  
that the only way a modern artist can be
 a great artist in a modern age is to   
say in that age that man is infinite1   
better than any one else is saying it4  
,the best way to express this infinity  
of man is to seek out the things in the 
life of the man which are the symbols of
 his infinity--which suggest his        

infinity the most--and then play on     
those symbols and let those symbols play
 on him4 ,in other words the poet's     
program is something like this4 ,the    
modern age means the infinity of man4   
,modern art means symbolism of man's    
infinity4 ,the best symbol of the man's 
infinity the poet can find1 in this     
world the man has made1 is ,the         
,machine4  ,at least it seems so to me4 
,i was looking out of my study window   
down the long track in the meadow the   
other morning and saw a smoke-cloud     
floating its train out of sight4 ,a high
 wind was driving1 and in long wavering 
folds the cloud lay down around the     
train4 ,it was like a great ,bird1 close
 to the snow1 forty miles an hour4 ,for 
a moment it almost seemed that1 instead 
of a train making a cloud1 it was a     
cloud propelling a train--wing of a     
thousand tons4 ,i have often before seen
 a broken fog towing a mountain1 but    
never have ,i seen before1 a train of   
cars with its engine1 pulled by the     

steam escaping from its whistle4 ,of    
course the train out in my meadow1 with 
its pillar of fire by night and of cloud
 by day hovering over it1 is nothing    
new2 neither is the tower of steam when 
it stands still of a winter morning     
building pyramids1 nor the long1 low    
cloud creeping back on the car-tops and 
scudding away in the light2 but this mad
 and splendid ,thing of ,whiteness and  
,wind1 riding out there in the morning1 
this ghost of a train--soul or look in  
the eyes of it1 haunting it1 gathering  
it all up1 steel and thunder1 into      
itself1 catching it away into           
heaven--was one of the most magical and 
stirring sights ,i have seen for a long 
time4 ,it came to me like a kind of     
,zeit-geist or passing of the spirit of 
the age4  ,when ,i looked again it was  
old #iib from the roundhouse escorting  
,number ,eight to ,springfield4     ,,vi
  ,,the ,,machines ,,as ,,philosophers  
,if we could go into ,history as we go  
into a theatre1 take our seats quietly1 

ring up the vast curtain on any         
generation we liked1 and then could     
watch it--all those far off queer happy 
people living before our eyes1 two or   
three hours--living with their new      
inventions and their last wonders all   
about them1 they would not seem to us1  
probably to know why they were happy4   
,they would merely be living along with 
their new things from day to day1 in a  
kind of secret clumsy gladness4         
,perhaps it is the same with us4 ,the   
theories for poems have to be arranged  
after we have had them4 ,the fundamental
 appeal of machinery seems to be to     
every man's personal everyday instinct  
and experience4 ,we have1 most of the   
time1 neither words nor theories for it4
  ,i do not think that our case must    
stand or fall with our theory4 ,but     
there is something comfortable about a  
theory4 ,a theory gives one permission  
to let ones self go--makes it seem more 
respectable to enjoy things4 ,so ,i     
suggest something--the one ,i have used 

when ,i felt ,i had to have one4 ,i have
 partitioned it off by itself and it can
 be skipped4  #a4 ,the substance of a   
beautiful thing is its ,idea4  #b4 ,a   
beautiful thing is beautiful in         
proportion as its form reveals the      
nature of its substance1 that is1       
conveys its idea4  #c4 ,machinery is    
beautiful by reason of immeasurable     
ideas consummately expressed4  #d4      
,machinery has poetry in it because the 
three immeasurable ideas expressed by   
machinery are the three immeasurable    
ideas of poetry and of the imagination  
and the soul--infinity and the two forms
 of infinity1 the liberty and the unity 
of man4  #e4 ,these immeasurable ideas  
are consummately expressed by machinery 
because machinery expresses them in the 
only way that immeasurable ideas can    
ever be expressed3 7#a7 by literally    
doing the immeasurable things1 7#b7 by  
suggesting that it is doing them4 ,to   
the man who is in the mood of looking at
 it with his whole being1 the machine is

 beautiful because it is the mightiest  
and silentest symbol the world contains 
of the infinity of his own life1 and of 
the liberty and unity of all men's      
lives1 which slowly1 out of the passion 
of history is now being wrought out     
before our eyes upon the face of the    
earth4  #f4 ,it is only from the point  
of view of a nightingale or a sonnet    
that the sthetic form of a machine1 if  
it is a good machine1 can be criticised 
as unbeautiful4 ,the less forms dealing 
with immeasurable ideas are finished    
forms the more symbolic and speechless  
they are2 the more they invoke the      
imagination and make it build out on    
,god1 and upon the ,future1 and upon    
,silence1 the more artistic and         
beautiful and satisfying they are4  #g4 
,the first great artist a modern or     
machine age can have1 will be the man   
who brings out for it the ideas behind  
its machines4 ,these ideas--the ones the
 machines are daily playing over and    
about the lives of all of us--might be  

stated roughly as follows3    ,the idea 
of the incarnation--the god in the body 
of the man4   ,the idea of liberty--the 
soul's rescue from others4   ,the idea  
of unity--the soul's rescue from its    
mere self4   ,the idea of the           
,spirit--the ,unseen and ,intangible4   
,the idea of immortality4   ,the cosmic 
idea of ,god4   ,the practical idea of  
invoking great men4   ,the religious    
idea of love and comradeship4  ,and     
nearly every other idea that makes of   
itself a song or a prayer in the human  
spirit4     ,,part ,,four  ,,ideas      
,,behind ,,the ,,machines     ,i  ,,the 
,,idea ,,of ,,incarnation    ,i sought  
myself through earth and fire and seas1 
,and found it not--but many things      
beside2   ,behemoth old1 ,leviathans    
that ride4   ,and protoplasm1 and       
jellies of the tide4    ,then wandering 
upward through the solid earth   ,with  
its dim sounds1 potential rage and      
mirth1   ,i faced the dim ,forefather of
 my birth1    ,and thus addressed ,him3 

',all of you that lie   ,safe in the    
dust or ride along the sky--   ,lo1     
these and these and these6 ,but where am
 ,i8'   ,the grasshopper may be called  
the poet of the insects4 ,he has more   
hop for his size than any of the others4
 ,i am very fond of watching            
him--especially of watching those two   
enormous beams of his that loom up on   
either side of his body4 ,they have     
always seemed to me one of the great    
marvels of mechanics4 ,by knowing how to
 use them1 he jumps forty times his own 
length4 ,a man who could contrive to    
walk as well as any ordinary grasshopper
 does 7and without half trying7 could   
make two hundred and fifty feet at a    
step4 ,there is no denying1 of course1  
that the man does it1 after his fashion1
 but he has to have a trolley to do it  
with4 ,the man seems to prefer1 as a    
rule1 to use things outside to get what 
he wants inside4 ,he has a way of making
 everything outside him serve him as if 
he had it on his own body--uses a whole 

universe every day without the trouble  
of always having to carry it around with
 him4 ,he gets his will out of the      
ground and even out of the air4 ,he lays
 hold of the universe and makes arms and
 legs out of it4 ,if he wants at any    
time1 for any reason1 more body than he 
was made with1 he has his soul reach out
 over or around the planet a little     
farther and draw it in for him4  ,the   
grasshopper1 so far as ,i know1 does not
 differ from the man in that he has a   
soul and body both1 but his soul and    
body seem to be perfectly matched4 ,he  
has his soul and body all on4 ,it is    
probably the best 7and the worst7 that  
can be said of a grasshopper's soul1 if 
he has one1 that it is in his legs--that
 he really has his wits about him4      
,looked at superficially1 or from the   
point of view of the next hop1 it can   
hardly be denied that the body the human
 soul has been fitted out with is a     
rather inferior affair4 ,from the point 
of view of any respectable or ordinarily

 well-equipped animal the human         
body--the one accorded to the average   
human being in the great show of        
creation--almost looks sometimes as if  
,god really must have made it as a kind 
of practical joke1 in the presence of   
the other animals1 on the rest of us4   
,it looks as if ,he had suddenly decided
 at the very moment he was in the middle
 of making a body for a man1 that out of
 all the animals man should be          
immortal--and had let it go at that4    
,with the exception of the giraffe and  
perhaps the goose or camel and an extra 
fold or so in the hippopotamus1 we are  
easily the strangest1 the most          
unexplained-looking shape on the face of
 the earth4 ,it is exceedingly unlikely 
that we are beautiful or impressive1 at 
first at least1 to any one but          
ourselves4 ,nearly all the things we do 
with our hands and feet1 any animal on  
earth could tell us1 are things we do   
not do as well as men did once1 or as   
well as we ought to1 or as well as we   

did when we were born4 ,our very babies 
are our superiors4  ,the only defence we
 are able to make when we are arraigned 
before the bar of creation1 seems to be1
 that while some of the powers we have  
exhibited have been very obviously lost1
 we have gained some very fine new      
invisible ones4 ,we are not so bad1 we  
argue1 after all1--our nerves1 for      
instance1--the mentalized condition of  
our organs4 ,and then1 of course1 there 
is the superior quality of our gray     
matter4 ,when we find ourselves obliged 
to appeal in this pathetic way from the 
judgment of the brutes1 or of those who1
 like them1 insist on looking at us in  
the mere ordinary1 observing1           
scientific1 realistic fashion1 we hint  
at our mysteriousness--a kind of mesh of
 mysticism there is in us4 ,we tell them
 it cannot really be seen from the      
outside1 how well our bodies work4 ,we  
do not put it in so many words1 but what
 we mean is1 that we need to be cut up  
to be appreciated1 or seen in the large1

 or in our more infinite relations4 ,our
 matter may not be very well arranged on
 us1 perhaps1 but we flatter ourselves  
that there is a superior unseen         
spiritual quality in it4 ,it takes seers
 or surgeons to appreciate us--more of  
the same sort1 etc4 ,in the meantime 7no
 man can deny the way things look7 here 
we all are1 with our queer1 pale1 little
 stretched-out legs and arms and things1
 floundering about on this earth1       
without even our clothes on1 covering   
ourselves as best we can4 ,and what     
could really be funnier than a human    
body living before ,the ,great ,sun     
under its frame of wood and glass1 all  
winter and all summer 444 strange and   
bleached-looking1 like celery1 grown    
almost always under cloth1 kept in the  
kind of cellar of cotton or wool it     
likes for itself1 moving about or being 
moved about1 the way it is1 in thousands
 of queer1 dependent1 helpless-looking  
ways8 ,the earth1 we can well believe1  
as we go up and down in it is full of   

soft laughter at us4 ,one cannot so much
 as go in swimming without feeling the  
fishes peeking around the rocks1 getting
 their fun out of us in some still1     
underworld sort of way4 ,we cannot      
help--a great many of us--feeling1 in a 
subtle way1 strange and embarrassed in  
the woods4 ,most of us1 it is true1     
manage to keep up a look of being fairly
 at home on the planet by huddling up   
and living in cities4 ,by dint of       
staying carefully away from the other   
animals1 keeping pretty much by         
ourselves1 and whistling a good deal and
 making a great deal of noise1 called   
civilization1 we keep each other in     
countenance after a fashion1 but we are 
really the guys of the animal world1 and
 when we stop to think of it and face   
the facts and see ourselves as the      
others see us1 we cannot help           
acknowledging it4 ,i1 for one1 rather   
like to1 and have it done with4  ,it is 
getting to be one of my regular         
pleasures now1 as ,i go up and down the 

world1--looking upon the man's          
body1--the little funny one that he     
thinks he has1 and then stretching my   
soul and looking upon the one that he   
really has4 ,when one considers what a  
man actually does1 where he really      
lives1 one sees very plainly that all   
that he has been allowed is a mere      
suggestion or hint of a body1 a sort of 
central nerve or ganglion for his real  
self4 ,a seed or spore of infinity1     
blown down on a star--held there by the 
grip1 apparently1 of ,nothing--a human  
body is pathetic enough1 looked at in   
itself4 ,there is something             
indescribably helpless and wistful and  
reaching out and incomplete about it--a 
body made to pray with1 perhaps1 one    
might say1 but not for action4 ,all that
 it really comes to or is for1          
apparently1 is a kind of light there is 
in it4  ,but the sea is its footpath4   
,the light that is in it is the same    
light that reaches down to the central  
fires of the earth4 ,it flames upon     

heaven4 ,helpless and unfinished-looking
 as it is1 when ,i look upon it1 ,i have
 seen the animals slinking to their     
holes before it1 and worshipping1 or    
following the light that is in it4 ,the 
great waters and the great lights flock 
to it--this beckoning and a prayer for a
 body1 which the man has4  ,i go into   
the printing room of a great newspaper4 
,in a single flash of black and white   
the press flings down the world for     
him--birth1 death1 disgrace1 honor and  
war and farce and love and death1 sea   
and hills1 and the days on the other    
side of the world4 ,before the dawn the 
papers are carried forth4 ,they hasten  
on glimmering trains out through the    
dark4 ,soon the newsboys shrill in the  
streets--,china and the ,philippines and
 ,australia1 and ,east and ,west they   
cry--the voices of the nations of the   
earth1 and in my soul ,i worship the    
body of the man4 ,have ,i not seen two  
trains full of the will of the body of  
the man meet at full speed in the       

darkness of the night8 ,i have watched  
them on the trembling ground--the flash 
of light1 the crash of power1 ninety    
miles an hour twenty inches apart1 444  
thundering aisles of souls 444 on into  
blackness1 and in my soul ,i worship the
 body of the man4  ,and when ,i go forth
 at night1 feel the earth walking       
silently across heaven beneath my feet1 
,i know that the heart-beat and the will
 of the man is in it--in all of it4     
,with thousands of trains under it1 over
 it1 around it1 he thrills it through   
with his will4 ,i no longer look1 since 
,i have known this1 upon the sun alone1 
nor upon the countenance of the hills1  
nor feel the earth around me growing    
softly or resting in the light1 lifting 
itself to live4 ,all that is1 all that  
reaches out around me1 is the body of   
the man4 ,one must look up to stars and 
beyond horizons to look in his face4    
,who is there1 ,i have said1 that shall 
trace upon the earth the footsteps of   
this body1 all wireless telegraph and   

steel1 or know the sound of its going8  
,now1 when ,i see it1 it is a terrible  
body1 trembling the earth4 ,like a low  
thunder it reaches around the crust of  
it1 grasping it4 ,and now it is a gentle
 body 7oh1 ,signor ,marconi671 swift as 
thought up over the hill of the sea1    
soft and stately as the walking of the  
clouds in the upper air4  ,is there any 
one to-day so small as to know where he 
is8 ,i am always coming suddenly upon my
 body1 crying out with joy like a child 
in the dark1 ,and ,i am here1 too6  ,has
 the twentieth century1 ,i have         
wondered1 a man in it who shall feel    
,himself8  ,and so it has come to pass1 
this vision ,i have seen with my own    
eyes--,man1 my ,brother1 with his mean1 
absurd little unfinished body1 going    
triumphant up and down the earth making 
limbs of ,time and ,space4 ,who is there
 who has not seen it1 if only through   
the peephole of a dream--the whole earth
 lying still and strange in the hollow  
of his hand1 the sea waiting upon him8  

,thousands of times ,i have seen it1 the
 whole earth with a look1 wrapped white 
and still in its ball of mist1 the glint
 of the ,atlantic on it1 and in the blue
 place the vision of the ships4         
,between the seas and skies   ,the      
,shuttle flies   ,seven sunsets long1   
tropic-deep1   ,thousand-sailed1   ,half
 in waking1 half in sleep4              
,glistening calms and shouting gales    
,water-gold and green1   ,and many a    
heavenly-minded blue   ,it thrusts and  
shudders through1   ,past my starlight1 
,past the glow of suns ,i know1         
,weaving fates1   ,loves and hates   ,in
 the ,sea--   ,the stately ,shuttle     
,to and fro1   ,mast by mast1   ,through
 the farthest bounds of moons and noons4
   ,flights of ,days and ,nights        
,flies fast4  ,it may be true1 as the   
poets are telling us1 that this fashion 
the modern man has1 of reaching out with
 steel and vapor and smoke1 and holding 
a star silently in his hand1 has no     
poetry in it1 and that machinery is not 

a fit subject for poets4 ,perhaps4 ,i am
 merely judging for myself4 ,i have seen
 the few poets of this modern world     
crowded into their corner of it 7in     
,westminster ,abbey71 and ,i have seen  
also a great foundry chiming its epic up
 to the night1 freeing the bodies and   
the souls of men around the world1      
beating out the floors of cities1 making
 the limbs of the great ships silently  
striding the sea1 and rolling out the   
roads of continents4  ,if this is not   
poetry1 it is because it is too great a 
vision4 ,and yet there are times ,i am  
inclined to think when it brushes       
against us--against all of us4 ,we feel 
,something there4 ,more than once ,i    
have almost touched the edge of it4     
,then ,i have looked to see the man     
wondering at it4 ,but he puts up his    
hands to his eyes1 or he is merely      
hammering on something4 ,then ,i wish   
that some one would be born for him1 and
 write a book for him1 a book that      
should come upon the man and fold him in

 like a cloud1 breathe into him where   
his wonder is4 ,he ought to have a book 
that shall be to him like a whole       
,age--the one he lives in1 coming to him
 and leaning over him1 whispering to    
him1 ,rise1 my ,son and live4 ,dost thou
 not behold thy hands and thy feet8     
,the trains like spirits flock to him4  
,there are days when ,i can read a      
time-table4 ,when ,i put it back in my  
pocket it sings4  ,in the time-table ,i 
carry in my pocket ,i unfold the earth4 
,i have come to despise poets and       
dreams4 ,truths have made dreams pale   
and small4 ,what is wanted now is some  
man who is literal enough to tell the   
truth4     ,,ii  ,,the ,,idea ,,of      
,,size   ,sometimes ,i have a haunting  
feeling that the other readers of ,mount
 ,tom 7besides me7 may not be so        
tremendously interested after all in    
machinery and interpretations of        
machinery4 ,perhaps they are merely     
being polite about the subject while up 
here with me on the mountain1 not       

wanting to interrupt exactly and not    
talking back4 ,it is really no place for
 talking back1 perhaps they think1 on a 
mountain4 ,but the trouble is1 ,i get   
more interested than other people before
 ,i know it4 ,then suddenly it occurs to
 me to wonder if they are listening     
particularly and are not looking off at 
the scenery and the river and the hills 
and the meadow while ,i wander on about 
railroad trains and symbolism and the   
,mount ,tom ,pulp ,mill and socialism   
and electricity and ,schopenhauer and   
the other things1 tracking out          
relations4 ,it gets worse than other    
people's genealogies4  ,but all ,i ask  
is1 that when they come1 as they are    
coming now1 just over the page to some  
more of these machine ideas1 or         
interpretations as one might call them1 
or impressions1 or orgies with engines1 
they will not drop the matter           
altogether4 ,they may not feel as ,i do4
 ,it would be a great disappointment to 
all of us1 perhaps1 if ,i could be      

agreed with by everybody2 but boring    
people is a serious matter--boring them 
all the time1 ,i mean4 ,it's no more    
than fair1 of course1 that the          
subscribers to a magazine should run    
some of the risk--as well as the        
editor--but ,i do like to think that in 
these next few pages there are--spots1  
and that people will keep hopeful4      
99       99       99       99       99  
,some people are very fond of looking up
 at the sky1 taking it for a regular    
exercise1 and thinking how small they   
are4 ,it relieves them4 ,i do not wish  
to deny that there is a certain luxury  
in it4 ,but ,i must say that for all    
practical purposes of a mind--of having 
a mind--,i would be willing to throw    
over whole hours and days of feeling    
very small1 any time1 for a single      
minute of feeling big4 ,the details are 
more interesting4 ,feeling small1 at    
best1 is a kind of glittering           
generality4  ,i do not think ,i am      
altogether unaware how ,i look from a   

star--at least ,i have spent days and   
nights practising with a star1 looking  
down from it on the thing ,i have agreed
 for the time being 7whatever it is7 to 
call myself1 and ,i have discovered that
 the real luxury for me does not consist
 in feeling very small or even in       
feeling very large4 ,the luxury for me  
is in having a regular reliable feeling1
 every day of my life1 that ,i have been
 made on purpose--and very conveniently 
made1 to be infinitely small or         
infinitely large as ,i like4 ,i arrange 
it any time4 ,i find myself saying one  
minute1 ,are not the whole human race my
 house-servants8 ,is not ,london my     
valet--always at my door to do my       
bidding8 ,clouds do my errands for me4  
,it takes a world to make room for my   
body4 ,my soul is furnished with other  
worlds ,i cannot see4  ,the next minute 
,i find myself saying nothing4 ,the     
whole star ,i am on is a bit of pale    
yellow down floating softly through     
space4 ,what ,i really seem to enjoy is 

a kind of insured feeling4 ,whether ,i  
am small or large all space cannot help 
waiting upon me--now that ,i have taken 
iron and vapor and light and made hands 
for my hands1 millions of them1 and     
reached out with them4 ,a little one    
shall become a thousand4 ,i have        
abolished all size--even my own size    
does not exist4 ,if all the work that is
 being done by the hands of my hands had
 literally to be done by men1 there     
would not be standing room for them on  
the globe--comfortable standing room4   
,but even though1 as it happens1 much of
 the globe is not very good to stand on1
 and vast tracts of it1 every year1 are 
going to waste1 it matters nothing to   
us4 ,every thing we touch is near or    
far1 or large or small1 as we like4 ,as 
long as a young woman can sit down by a 
loom which is as good as six hundred    
more just like her1 and all in a few    
square feet--as long as we can do up the
 whole of one of ,napoleon's armies in a
 ball of dynamite1 or stable twelve     

thousand horses in the boiler of an     
ocean steamer1 it does not make very    
much difference what kind of a planet we
 are on1 or how large or small it is4   
,if suddenly it sometimes seems as if it
 were all used up and things look       
cramped again 7which they do once in so 
often7 we have but to think of          
something1 invent something1 and let it 
out a little4 ,we move over into a new  
world in a minute4 ,columbus was mere   
bagatelle4 ,we get continents every few 
days4 ,thousands of men are thinking of 
them--adding them on4 ,mere size is     
getting to be old-fashioned--as a way of
 arranging things4 ,it has never been a 
very big earth--at best--the way ,god   
made it first4 ,he made a single spider 
that could weave a rope out of her own  
body around it4 ,it can be ticked all   
through1 and all around1 with the       
thoughts of a man4 ,the universe has    
been put into a little telescope and the
 oceans into a little compass4 ,alice in
 ,wonderland's romantic and clever way  

with a pill is become the barest matter 
of fact4 ,looking at the world a single 
moment with a soul instead of a         
theodolite1 no one who has ever been on 
it--before--would know it4 ,it's as if  
the world were a little wizened balloon 
that had been given us once and had been
 used so for thousands of years1 and we 
had just lately discovered how to blow  
it4     ,,iii  ,,the ,,idea ,,of        
,,liberty   ,some one told me one       
morning not so very long ago that the   
sun was getting a mile smaller across   
every ten years4 ,it gave me a shut-in  
and helpless feeling4 ,i found myself   
several times during that day looking at
 it anxiously4 ,i almost held my hands  
up to it to warm them4 ,i knew in a     
vague fashion that it would last long   
enough for me4 ,and a mile in ten years 
was not much4 ,it did not take much     
figuring to see that ,i had not the     
slightest reason to be anxious4 ,but my 
feelings were hurt4 ,i felt as if       
something had hit the universe4 ,i could

 not get myself--and ,i have not been   
able to get myself since--to look at it 
impersonally4 ,i suppose every man lives
 in some theory of the universe1        
unconsciously1 every day1 as much as he 
lives in the sunlight4 ,and he does not 
want it disturbed4 ,i have always felt  
safe before4 ,and1 what was a necessary 
part of safety with me1 ,i have felt    
that history was safe--that there was   
going to be enough of it4  ,i have been 
in the world a good pleasant while on   
the whole1 tried it and got used to     
it--used to the weather on it and used  
to having my friends hate me and my     
enemies turn on me and love me1 and the 
other uncertainties2 but all the time1  
when ,i looked up at the sun and saw it1
 or thought of it down under the world1 
,i counted on it4 ,i discovered that my 
soul had been using it daily as a kind  
of fulcrum for all things4 ,i helped    
,god lift with it4 ,it was obvious that 
it was going to be harder for both of   
us--a mere matter of time4 ,i could not 

get myself used to the thought4 ,every  
fresh look ,i took at the sun peeling   
off mile after mile up there1 as fast as
 ,i lived1 flustered me--made my sky    
less useful to me1 less convenient to   
rest in4 ,i found myself trying slowly  
to see how this universe would          
look--what it would be like1 if ,i were 
the last man on it4 ,somebody would have
 to be4 ,it would be necessary to       
justify things for him4 ,he would       
probably be too tired and cold to do it4
 ,so ,i tried4  ,i had a good deal the  
same experience with ,mount ,pele last  
summer4 ,i resented being cooped up     
helplessly1 on a planet that leaked4    
,the fact that it leaked several        
thousand miles away1 and had made a     
comparatively safe hole for it1 out in  
the middle of the sea1 only afforded    
momentary relief4 ,the hurt ,i felt was 
deeper than that4 ,it could not be      
remedied by a mere applying long        
distances to it4 ,it was underneath down
 in my soul4 ,time and ,space could not 

get at it4 ,the feeling that ,i had been
 trapped in a planet somehow1 and that  
,i could not get off possibly1 the      
feeling that ,i had been deliberately   
taken body and soul1 without my knowing 
it and without my ever having been      
asked1 and set down on a cooled-off     
cinder to live1 whether ,i wanted to or 
not--the sudden new appalling sense ,i  
had1 that the ground underneath my feet 
was not really good and solid1 that ,i  
was living every day of my life just    
over a roar of great fire1 that ,i was  
being asked 7and everybody else7 to make
 history and build stone houses1 and    
found institutions and things on the    
bare outside--the destroyed and ruined  
part of a ball that had been tossed out 
in space to burn itself up--the sense1  
on top of all this1 that this dried     
crust ,i live on1 or bit of caked ashes1
 was liable to break through suddenly at
 any time and pour down the center of   
the earth on one's head1 did not add to 
the dignity1 it seemed to me1 or the    

self-respect of human life4 ,you might  
as well front the facts1 my dear youth1 
look ,mount ,pele in the face1 ,i tried 
to say coldly and calmly to myself4     
,here you are1 set down helplessly among
 stars1 on a great round blue and green 
something all fire and wind inside4 ,and
 it is all liable--this superficial     
crust or geological ice you are         
on--perfectly liable1 at any time or any
 place after this1 to let through       
suddenly and dump all the nations and   
all ancient and modern history1 and you 
and ,your ,book1 into this awful        
ceaseless abyss--of boiled mountains and
 stewed up continents that is seething  
beneath your feet4  ,it is hard enough1 
it seems to me1 to be an optimist on the
 edge of this earth as it is1 to keep on
 believing in people and things on it1  
without having to believe besides that  
the earth is a huge round swindle just  
of itself1 going round and round through
 all heaven1 with all of us on it1      
laughing at us4  ,i felt chilled through

 for a long time after ,mount ,pele     
broke out4 ,i went wistfully about      
sitting in sunny and windless places    
trying to get warmed all summer4 ,and it
 was not all in my soul4 ,it was not all
 subjective4 ,i noticed that the        
thermometer was caught the same way4 ,it
 was a plain case enough--it seemed to  
me--the heater ,i lived on had let      
through1 spilled out and wasted a lot of
 its fire1 and the ground simply could  
not get warmed up after it4 ,i sat in   
the sun and pictured the earth freezing 
itself up slowly and deliberately1 on   
the outside4 ,i had it all arranged in  
my mind4 ,the end of the world was not  
coming as the ancients saw it1 by a kind
 of overflow of fire1 but by the fires  
going out4 ,a mile off the sun every ten
 years 7this for the loss of outside    
heat7 and volcanoes and things 7for the 
inside heat71 and gradually between     
being frozen under us1 and frozen over  
us1 both1 both sides at once1 the human 
race would face the situation4 ,we would

 have to learn to live together4 ,any   
one could see that4 ,the human race was 
going to be one long row1               
sometime--great nations of us and little
 ones all at last huddled up along the  
equator to keep warm4 ,just outside of  
this a little way1 it would be perfectly
 empty star1 all in a swirl of          
snowdrifts4  ,i do not claim that it was
 very scientific to feel in this way1   
but ,i have always had1 ever since ,i   
can remember1 a moderate or decent human
 interest in the universe as a universe1
 and ,i had always felt as if the earth 
had made1 for all practical purposes1 a 
sort of contract with the human race1   
and when it acted like this--cooled     
itself off all of a sudden1 in the      
middle of a hot summer1 and all to show 
off a comparatively unknown and         
unimportant mountain hid on an island   
far out at sea--,i could not conceal    
from myself 7in my present and usual    
capacity as a kind of agent or sponsor  
for humanity7 that there was something  

distinctly jarring about it and         
disrespectful4 ,i felt as if we had been
 trifled with4 ,it was not a feeling ,i 
had very long--this injured feeling     
toward the universe in behalf of the man
 in it1 but ,i could not help it at     
first4 ,there grew an anger within me   
and then out of the anger a great       
delight4 ,it seemed to me ,i saw my soul
 standing afar off down there1 on its   
cold and emptied-looking earth4  ,then  
slowly ,i saw it was the same soul ,i   
had always had4 ,i was standing as ,i   
had always stood on an earth before1 be 
it a bare or flowering one4 ,i saw      
myself standing before all that was4    
,then ,i defied the heaven over my head 
and the ground under my feet not to keep
 me strong and glad before ,god4 ,i saw 
that it mattered not to me1 of an earth1
 how bare it was1 or could be1 or could 
be made to be2 if the soul of a man     
could be kept burning on it1 victory and
 gladness would be alive upon it4 ,i    
fell to thinking of the man4 ,i took an 

inventory down in my being of all that  
the man was1 of the might of the spirit 
that was in him4 ,would it be anything  
new to the man to be maltreated1 a      
little1 neglected--almost outwitted by a
 universe8 ,had he not already1         
thousands of times in the history of    
this planet1 flung his spirit upon the  
cold1 and upon empty space--and made    
homes out of it8 ,he had snuggled in    
icebergs4 ,he had entered the place of  
the mighty heat and made the coolness of
 shadow out of it4  ,it was nothing new4
 ,the planet had always been a little   
queer4 ,it was when it commenced4 ,the  
only difference would seem to be that1  
instead of having the earth at first the
 way it is going to be by and by        
apparently--an earth with a little rim  
of humanity around it1 great nations    
toeing the equator to live--everything  
was turned around4 ,all the young       
nations might have been seen any day    
crowded around the ends or tips of the  
earth to keep from falling into the fire

 that was still at work on the middle of
 it1 finishing it off and getting it    
ready to have things happen on it4 ,boys
 might have been seen almost any        
afternoon1 in those early days1 going   
out to the north pole and playing duck  
on the rock to keep from being too warm4
  ,it is a mere matter of opinion or of 
taste--the way a planet acts at any     
given time4 ,now it is one way and now  
another1 and we do as we like4  ,i do   
not pretend to say in so many words if  
the sun grew feeble1 just what the man  
would do1 down in his snowdrifts4 ,but  
,i know he would make some kind of      
summer out of them4 ,one cannot help    
feeling that if the sun went out1 it    
would be because he wanted it to--had   
arranged something1 if nothing but a    
good bit of philosophy4 ,it is not      
likely that the man has defied the      
heavens and the earth all these         
centuries for nothing4 ,the things they 
have done against him have been the     
making of him4 ,when he found this same 

sun we are talking about1 in the        
earliest days of all1 was a sun that    
kept running away from him and left him 
in a great darkness half of every day he
 lived1 he knew what to do4 ,every time 
that ,heaven has done anything to him1  
he has had his answer ready4 ,the man   
who finds himself on a planet that is   
only lighted part of the time1 is merely
 reminded that he must think of         
something4 ,he digs light out of the    
ground and glows up the world with her  
own sap4 ,when he finds himself living  
on an earth that can only be said to be 
properly heated a small fraction of the 
year1 he makes the earth itself to burn 
itself and keep him warm4 ,things like  
this are small to us4 ,we put coal      
through a desire and take the breath out
 of its dark body1 and put it in pipes1 
and cook our food with poisons4 ,we take
 water and burn it into air and we      
telegraph boilers1 and flash mills      
around the earth on poles4 ,we move vast
 machines with a little throb1 like     

light4 ,we put a street on a wire4      
,great crowds in the great cities--whole
 blocks of them--are handed along day   
and night like dots and dashes in       
telegrams4 ,a man cannot be stopped by a
 breath4 ,we save a man up in his own   
whisper hundreds of years when he is    
dead4 ,a human voice that reaches only a
 few yards makes thousands of miles of  
copper talk4 ,then we make the thousand 
miles talk without the copper wire4 ,we 
stand on the shore and beat the air with
 a thought thousands of miles away--make
 it whisper for us to ships4 ,one need  
not fear for a man like this--a man who 
has made all the earth a deed1 an action
 of his own soul1 who has thrown his    
soul at last upon the waste of heaven   
and made words out of it4 ,one cannot   
but believe that a man like this is a   
free man4 ,let what will happen to the  
sun that warms him or the star that     
seems just now his foothold in space4   
,all shall be as his soul says when his 
soul determines what it shall say4 ,fire

 and wind and cold--when his soul       
speaks--and ,invisibility itself and    
,nothing are his servants4  ,the vision 
of a little helpless human race huddled 
in the tropics saying its last prayers1 
holding up its face to a far-off        
neglected-looking universe1 warming its 
hands at the stars--the vision of all   
the great peoples of the earth squeezed 
up into ,esquimaux1 in furs up to their 
eyes1 stamping their feet on the equator
 to keep warm1 is merely the sort of    
vision that one set of scientists gloats
 on giving us4 ,one needs but to look   
for what the other set is saying4 ,it   
has not time to be saying much1 but what
 it practically says is3 ,let the sun   
wizen up if it wants to4 ,there will be 
something4 ,somebody will think of      
something4 ,possibly we are outgrowing  
suns4 ,at all events to a real man any  
little accident or bruise to the planet 
he's on is a mere suggestion of how     
strong he is4 ,some new beautiful       
impossibility--if the truth were        

known--is just what we are looking for4 
,a human race which makes its car wheels
 and napkins out of paper1 its street   
pavements out of glass1 its railway ties
 out of old shoes1 which draws food out 
of air1 which winds up operas on spools1
 which has its way with oceans1 and     
plays chess with the empty ether that is
 over the sea--which makes clouds speak 
with tongues1 which lights railway      
trains with pin-wheels and which makes  
its cars go by stopping them1 and heats 
its furnaces with smoke--it would be    
very strange if a race like this could  
not find some way at least of managing  
its own planet1 and 7heaped with        
snowdrifts though it be7 some way of    
warming it1 or of melting off a place to
 live on4 ,a corporation was formed down
 in ,new ,jersey the other day to light 
a city by the tossing of the waves4 ,we 
are always getting some new             
grasp--giving some new sudden almost    
humorous stretch to matter4 ,we keep    
nature fairly smiling at herself4 ,one  

can hardly tell1 when one hears of half 
the new things nowadays--actual         
facts--whether to laugh or cry1 or form 
a stock company or break out into       
singing4 ,no one would dare to say that 
a thousand years from now we will not   
have found some other use for moonlight 
than for love affairs and to haul tides 
with4 ,we will be manufacturing noon    
yet1 out of compressed starlight1 and   
heating houses with it4 ,it will be     
peddled about the streets like milk1    
from door to door in cases and bottles4 
,first and last1 whatever else may be   
said of us1 we do as we like with a     
planet4 ,nothing it can do to us1       
nothing that can happen to it1 outwits  
us--at least more than a few hundred    
years at a time4 ,the idea that we      
cannot even keep warm on it is          
preposterous4 ,nothing would be more    
likely--almost any time now--than for   
some one to decide that we ought to have
 our continents warmed more1 winters4   
,it would not be much1 as things are    

going1 to remodel the floors of a few of
 our continents--put in registers and   
things1 have the heat piped up from the 
center of the earth4 ,the best way to   
get a faint idea of what science is     
going to be like the next few thousand  
years1 is to pick out something that    
could not possibly be so and believe it4
 ,we manufacture ice in ,july by boiling
 it1 and if we cannot warm a planet as  
we want to--at least a few furnished    
continents--with hot things1 we will do 
it with cold ones1 or by rubbing        
icebergs together4 ,if one wants a good 
simple working outfit for a prophet in  
science and mechanics1 all one has to do
 is to think of things that are         
unexpected enough1 and they will come to
 pass4 ,a scientist out in the          
,northwest has just finished his plans  
for getting hold of the other end of the
 force of gravity4 ,the general idea is 
to build a sort of tower or flag-pole on
 the planet--something that reaches far 
enough out over the edge to get an      

underhold as it were--grip hold of the  
force of gravity where it works         
backwards4 ,of course1 as anyone can see
 at a glance1 when it is once built out 
with steel1 the first forty miles or so 
7workmen using compressed air and       
tubular trolleys1 etc471 everything on  
the tower would pull the other way and  
the pressure would gradually be relieved
 until the thing balanced itself4 ,when 
completed it could be used to draw down 
electricity from waste space 7which has 
as much as everybody on this planet     
could ever want1 and more74 ,what a     
little earth like ours would develop    
into1 with a connection like this--a    
sort of umbilical cord to the           
infinite--no one would care to try to   
say4 ,it would at least be a kind of    
planet that would always be sure of     
anything it wanted4 ,when we had used up
 all the raw material or live force in  
our own world we could draw on the      
others4 ,at the very least we would have
 a sort of signal station to the planets

 in general that would be useful4 ,they 
would know what we want1 and if we could
 not get it from them they would tell us
 where we could4  ,all this may be a    
little mixing perhaps4 ,it is always    
difficult to tell the difference between
 the sublime and the ridiculous in      
talking of a being like man4 ,it is what
 makes him sublime--that there is no    
telling about him--that he is a great1  
lusty1 rollicking1 easy-going son of    
,god and throws off a world every now   
and then1 or puts one on1 with quips and
 jests4 ,when the laugh dies away his   
jokes are prophecies4 ,it behooves us   
therefore to walk softly1 you and ,i1   
,gentle ,reader1 while we are here with 
him--while this dear gentle ground is   
still beneath our feet4 ,there is no    
telling his reach4 ,let us notice stars 
more4  ,in the meantime it does seem to 
me that a comparatively simple affair   
like this one single planet1 need not   
worry us much4  ,i still keep seeing    
it--,i cannot help it--,i always keep   

seeing it--eternities at a time1 warm1  
convenient1 and comfortable1 the same   
old green and white1 with all its       
improvements on it1 whatever the sun    
does4 ,and above all ,i keep seeing the 
,man on it1 full of defiance and of love
 and worship1 being born and buried--the
 little-great man1 running about and    
strutting1 flying through space on it1  
all his interests and his loves wound   
about it like clouds1 but beckoning to  
worlds as he flies4 ,and whatever the   
,man does with the other worlds or with 
this one1 ,i always keep seeing this    
one1 the same old stand or deck in      
eternity1 for praying and singing and   
living1 it always was4 ,long after ,i am
 dead1 oh1 dear little planet1 least and
 furthest breath that is blown on thy   
face1 my soul flocks to you1 rises      
around you1 and looks back upon you and 
watches you down there in your round    
white cloud1 rowing faithfully through  
space6     ,,iv  ,,the ,,idea ,,of      
,,immortality   ,if ,i had never thought

 of it before1 and some one were to come
 around to my study tomorrow morning and
 tell me that ,i was immortal1 ,i am not
 at all sure that ,i would be attracted 
by it4 ,the first thing that ,i should  
do1 probably1 would be to argue a       
little--ask him what it was for4 ,i     
might take some pains not to commit     
myself 7one does not want to settle a   
million years in a few minutes71 but ,i 
cannot help being conscious1 on the     
inside of my own mind1 at least1 that   
the first thought on immortality that   
would come to me1 would be that perhaps 
it might be overdoing things a little4  
,i can speak only for myself4 ,i am not 
unaware that a great many men and women 
are talking to-day about immortality and
 writing about it4 ,i know many people  
too1 who1 in a faithful1 worried way    
seem to be lugging about with them1     
while they live1 what they call a faith 
in immortality4 ,i would not mean to say
 a word against immortality1 if ,i were 
asked suddenly and had never thought of 

it before4 ,if by putting out my hand ,i
 could get some of it1 for other        
people1--people that wanted it or       
thought they did--,i would probably4    
,they would be happier and easier to    
live with4 ,i could watch them enjoying 
the idea of how long they were going to 
last4 ,there would be a certain social  
pleasure in it4 ,but1 speaking strictly 
for myself1 if ,i were asked suddenly   
and had never heard of it before1 ,i    
would not have the slightest preference 
on the subject4 ,it may be true1 as some
 say1 that a man is only half alive if  
he does not long to live forever1 but   
while ,i have the best wishes and       
intentions with regard to my hope for   
immortality ,i cannot get interested4 ,i
 feel as if ,i were living forever now1 
this very moment1 right here on the     
premises--,universe1 ,earth1 ,united    
,states of ,america1 ,hampshire ,county1
 ,northampton1 ,massachusetts4 ,i feel  
infinitely related every day and hour   
and minute of my life1 to an infinite   

number of things4 ,as for joggling      
,god's elbow or praying to ,him or any  
such thing as that1 under the           
circumstances1 and begging ,him to let  
me live forever1 it always seems to me  
7,i have done it sometimes when ,i was  
very tired7 as if it were a way of      
denying ,him to ,his face4 ,how a man   
who is literally standing up to his     
soul's eyes1 and to the tops of the     
stars in the infinite1 who can feel the 
eternal throbbing through the very pores
 of his body1 can so far lose his sense 
of humor in a prayer1 or his reverence  
in it1 as to put up a petition to ,god  
to live forever1 ,i entirely fail to    
see4 ,i always feel as if ,i had stopped
 living forever--to ask ,him4  ,i have  
traveled in the blaze of a trolley car  
when all the world was asleep1 and have 
been shot through still country fields  
in the great blackness4 ,all things that
 were--it seemed to my soul1 were       
snuffed out4 ,it was as if all the earth
 had become a whir and a bit of         

light--had dwindled away to a long      
plunge1 or roll and roar through        
,nothing4 ,slowly as ,i came to myself  
,i said1 ,now ,i will try to realize    
,motion4 ,i will see if ,i can know4 ,i 
spread my soul about me4444 ,ties flying
 under my feet1 black poles picked out  
with lights1 flapping ghostlike past the
 windows4444 ,voices of wheels over and 
under4444 ,the long1 dreary waver of the
 something that sounds when the car     
stops 7and which feels like taking gas7 
444 the semi-confidential1 semi-public  
talk of the passengers1 the sudden      
collision with silence1 they come to1   
when the car halts--all these4 ,finally 
when ,i look up every one has slipped   
away4 ,then ,i find my soul spreading   
further and further4 ,the great night1  
silent and splendid1 builds itself over 
me4 ,the night is the crowded time to   
travel--car almost to one's self1       
nothing but a few whirls of light and a 
conductor for company--the long monotone
 of miles--miles--flying beside me and  

above and around and beneath--all this  
shadowed world to belong to1 to dwell   
in1 to pick out with one's soul from    
,darkness4 ,here am ,i1 ,i said as the  
roar tightened once more1 and gripped on
 its awful wire and glowed through the  
blackness4 ,here ,i am in infinite      
space1 ,i and my bit of glimmer4444     
,worlds fall about me4 ,the very one ,i 
am on1 and stamp my feet on to know it  
is there1 falls and plunges with me out 
through deserts of space1 and stars ,i  
cannot see have their hand upon me and  
hold me4  ,no one would deny that the   
idea of immortality is a well-meaning   
idea and pleasantly inclined and        
intended to be appreciative of a ,god1  
but it does seem to me that it is one of
 the most absent-minded ways of         
appreciating ,him that could be         
conceived4 ,i am infinite at #hh ,high  
,street4 ,i have all the immortality ,i 
can use1 without going through my own   
front gate4 ,i have but to look out of a
 window4 ,there is no denying that      

,mount ,tom is convenient1 and as a kind
 of soul-stepping-stone1 or horse-block 
to the infinite1 the immeasurable and   
immortal1 a mountain may be an          
advantage1 perhaps1 and make some       
difference2 but ,i must confess that it 
seems to me that in all times and in all
 places a man's immortality is          
absolutely in his own hands4 ,his       
immortality consists in his being in an 
immortally related state of mind4 ,his  
immortality is his sense of having      
infinite relations with all the time    
there is1 and his infinity consists in  
his having infinite relations with all  
the space there is4 ,wherever1 as a     
matter of form1 a man may say he is     
living or staying1 the universe is his  
real address4  ,i have been at sea--lain
 with a board over me out in the wide   
night and looked at the infinite through
 a port-hole4 ,over the edge of the     
swash of a wave ,i have gathered in     
oceans and possessed them4 ,under my    
board in the night ,i have lain still   

with the whole earth and mastered it in 
my heart1 shared it until ,i could not  
sleep with the joy of it--the great ship
 with all its souls throbbing a planet  
through me and chanting it to me4 ,i    
thought to my soul1 ,where art thou8 ,i 
looked down upon myself as if ,i were a 
,god looking down on myself and upon the
 others1 and upon the ship and upon the 
waters4    ,a thousand breaths we lie   
,shrouded limbs and faces   ,horizontal 
,packed in cases   ,in our named and    
numbered places1   ,catalogued for      
sleep1   ,trembling through the         
,godlight   ,below1 above1   ,deep to   
,deep4  ,how a church-going man in a    
world like this can possibly contrive to
 have time to cry out or worry on it1 or
 to be troubled about another--how he   
can demand another1 the way he does     
sometimes1 as if it were the only thing 
left a ,god could do to straighten      
matters out for having put him on this  
one1 and how he can call this           
religion--is a problem that leaves my   

mind like an exhausted receiver4 ,it is 
a grave question whether any immortality
 they are likely to get in another world
 would ever really pay some people for  
the time they have wasted in this one1  
worrying about it4  ,does any science in
 the world suppose or dare to suppose   
that ,i am as unimportant in it as ,i   
look--or that ,i could be if ,i tried8  
that ,i am a parasite rolled up in a    
drop of dew1 down under a shimmering    
mist of worlds that do not serve me nor 
care for me8 ,i swear daily that ,i am  
not living and that ,i will not and     
cannot live underneath a universe 444   
with a little horizon or teacup of space
 set down over me4 ,the whole sky is the
 tool of my daily life4 ,it belongs to  
me and ,i to it4 ,i have said to the    
heavens that they shall hourly minister 
to me--to the uses of my spirit and the 
needs of my body4 ,when ,i1 or my       
spirit1 would move a little ,i swing out
 on stars4 ,in the watches of the night 
they reach under my eyelids and serve my

 sleep and wait on me with dreams1 ,i   
know ,i am immortal because ,i know ,i  
am infinite4 ,a man is at least as long 
as he is wide4 ,there is no need to     
quibble with words4 ,i care little      
enough whether ,i am supposed to say it 
is forever across my soul or everywhere 
across it4 ,whichever it is1 ,i make it 
the other when ,i am ready4 ,if a man is
 infinite and lives an infinitely       
related life1 why should it matter      
whether he is eternal as he calls it or 
not1--takes his immortality sideways    
here1 now1 and in the terms of space or 
later with some kind of time-arrangement
 stretched out and petering along over a
 long1 narrow row of years8  ,thousands 
of things are happening that are        
mine--out1 around1 and through the great
 darkness--being born and killed and    
ticked and printed while ,i sleep4 ,when
 ,i have stilled myself with sleep1 do  
,i not know that the lightning is       
waiting on me8 ,when ,i see a cloud of  
steam ,i say1 ,there is my omnipresence4

 ,my being is busy out in the universe  
having its way somewhere4 ,the days on  
the other side of the world are my days4
 ,i get what ,i want out of them without
 having to keep awake for them4 ,in the 
middle of the night and without trying  
,i lay my hand on the moon4 ,it is my   
moon1 wherever it may be1 or whether ,i 
so much as look upon it1 and when ,i do 
look upon it it is no roof for me1 and  
the stars behind it flow in my veins4   
,,ii  ,i have been reading lately a book
 on ,immortality1 the leading idea of   
which seems to be a sort of astral body 
for people--people who are worthy of it4
 ,the author does not believe after the 
old-fashioned method that we are going  
to the stars4 ,he intimates 7for all    
practical purposes7 that we do not need 
to4 ,the stars are coming to us1--are   
already being woven in us4 ,the author  
does not say it in so many words1 but   
the general idea seems to be that the   
more spiritual or subtle body we are    
going to have1 is already started in    

us--if we live as we should--growing    
like a kind of lining for this one4  ,i 
can only speak for one1 but ,i find that
 when ,i am willing to take the time    
from reading books on immortality to    
enjoy a few infinite experiences1 ,i am 
not apt to be troubled very much about  
another world4  ,it is daily obvious to 
me that ,i belong and that ,i am living 
in an infinite and eternal world1       
inconceivably better planned and managed
 than one of mine would be1 and the only
 logical thing that ,i can do1 is to    
take it for granted that the next one is
 even better than this4 ,if the main    
feature of the next world consists in   
there not being one1 then so much the   
better4 ,i would not have thought so4   
,it seems a little abrupt at this       
moment1 perhaps1 but it is a mere detail
 and why not leave it to ,god to work it
 out8 ,he doesn't have to neglect       
anything to do it--which is what we     
do--and ,he is going to do it anyway4   
,i have refused to take time from my    

infinity now for a theory of a theory   
about some new kind by and by4 ,i have  
but to stand perfectly still4 ,there is 
an infinite opening and shutting of     
doors for me1 through all the heavens   
and the earth4 ,i lie with my head in   
the deep grass4 ,a square yard is       
forever across4 ,i listen to a great    
city in the grass--millions of insects4 
,microscopes have threaded it for me4 ,i
 know their city--all its mighty little 
highways4 ,i possess it4 ,and when ,i   
walk away ,i rebuild their city softly  
in my heart4 ,winds1 tides1 and vapors  
are for me everywhere1 that my soul may 
possess them4 ,i reach down to the      
silent metals under my feet that        
millions of ages have worked on1 and    
fire and wonder and darkness4 ,i feel   
the sun and the lives of nations flowing
 around to me1 from under the sea4 ,who 
can shut me out from anybody's sunrise8 
,oh1 tenderly the haughty day   ,fills  
his blue urn with fire2   ,one morn is  
in the mighty heaven   ,and one in my   

desire4  ,i play with the ,seasons1 with
 all the weathers on earth4 ,i can      
telegraph for them4 ,i go to the weather
 ,i want4 ,the sky--to me--is no longer 
a great1 serious1 foreign-looking shore1
 conducting a big foolish               
cloud-business1 sending down decrees of 
weather on helpless cities4 ,with a     
whistle and a roar ,i defy it--move any 
strip of it out from over me--for any   
other strip4 ,i order the time of year4 
,it is my sky4 ,i bend it a little--just
 a little4 ,the sky no longer has a     
monopoly of wonder4 ,with the hands of  
my hands1 my brother and ,i have made an
 earth that can answer a sky back1 that 
can commune with a sky4 ,the soul at    
last guesses at its real self4 ,it      
reaches out and dares4 ,men go about    
singing with telescopes4 ,i do not      
always need to lift my hands to a sky   
and pray to it now4 ,i am related to it4
 ,with the hands of my hands ,i work    
with it4 ,i say ,i and the sky4 ,i say  
,i and the ,earth4 ,we are immortal     

because we are infinite4 ,we have       
reached over with the hands of our      
hands4 ,they are praying a stupendous   
prayer--a kind of god's prayer4 ,god's  
hand has been                           
grasped--vaguely--wonderfully out in the
 ,dark4 ,no longer is the joy of the    
universe to a man1 one of his great1    
solemn1 solitary joys4 ,the sublime     
itself is a neighborly thought4 ,god's  
machine--up--,there--and the machines of
 the man have signaled each other4      
,v  ,,the ,,idea ,,of ,,god   ,my study 
7not the place where ,i get my knowledge
 but the place where ,i put it together7
 is a great meadow--ten square splendid 
level miles of it--as fenceless and as  
open as a sky--merely two mountains to  
stand guard4 ,if ,h---- the scientist   
who lives nearest to me 7that is2       
nearest to my mind17 were to come down  
to me to-morrow morning1 down in my     
meadow1 with its huge triangle of       
trolleys and railways humming gently    
around the edges and tell me that he had

 found a ,god1 ,i would not believe it4 
,where8 ,i would say1 in which ,bottle8 
,i have groped for one all these years4 
,ever since ,i was a child ,i have been 
groping for a ,god4 ,i thought one had  
to4 ,i have turned over the pages of    
ancient books and hunted in morning     
papers and rummaged in the events of the
 great world and looked on the under    
sides of leaves and guessed on the other
 sides of the stars and all in vain4 ,i 
never could make out to find a ,god in  
that way4 ,i wonder if anyone can4  ,i  
know it is not the right spirit to have1
 but ,i must confess that when the      
scientist 7the smaller sort of scientist
 around the corner in my mind and       
everybody's mind7 with all his retorts  
and things1 pottering with his argument 
of design1 comes down to me in my meadow
 and reminds me that he has been looking
 for a ,god and tells me cautiously and 
with all his kind1 conscientious hems   
and haws that he has found ,him1 ,i     
wonder if he has4  ,the very necessity a

 man is under of seeking a ,god at all1 
in a world alive all over like this1 of 
feeling obliged to go on a long journey 
to search one out makes one doubt if the
 kind of ,god he would find would be    
worth while4 ,i have never caught a man 
yet who has found his ,god in this way1 
enjoying ,him or getting anyone else to4
  ,it does seem to me that the idea of a
 ,god is an absolutely plain1           
rudimentary1 fundamental1 universal     
human instinct1 that the very essence of
 finding a ,god consists in ,his not    
having to be looked for1 in giving one's
 self up to one's plain every-day       
infinite experiences4 ,i suppose if it  
could be analyzed1 the poet's real      
quarrel with the scientist is not that  
he is material1 but that he is not      
material enough1--he does not conceive  
matter enough to find a ,god4 ,i cannot 
believe for instance that any man on    
earth to whom the great spectacle of    
matter going on every day before his    
eyes is a scarcely noticed thing--any   

man who is willing to turn aside from   
this spectacle--this spectacle as a     
whole--and who looks for a ,god like a  
chemist in a bottle for instance--a     
bottle which he places absolutely by    
itself1 would be able to find one if he 
tried4 ,it seems to me that it is by    
letting one's self have one's           
infinite--one's infinitely related      
experiences1 and not by cutting them off
 that one comes to know a ,god4 ,to find
 a ,god who is everywhere one must at   
least spend a part of one's time in     
being everywhere one's self--in relating
 one's knowledge to all knowledge4      
,there are various undergirding         
arguments and reasons1 but the only way 
that ,i really know there is an infinite
 ,god is because ,i am infinite--in a   
small way--myself4 ,even the matter that
 has come into the world connected with 
me1 and that belongs to me1 is infinite4
 ,if my soul1 like some dim pale light  
left burning within me1 were merely to  
creep to the boundaries of its own body1

 it would know there was a ,god4 ,the   
very flesh ,i live with every day is    
infinite flesh4 ,from the furthest      
rumors of men and women1 the furthest   
edge of time and space my soul has      
gathered dust to itself4 ,i carry a     
temple about with me4 ,if ,i could do no
 better1 and if there were need1 ,i am  
my own cathedral4 ,i worship when ,i    
breathe4 ,i bow down before the tick of 
my pulse4 ,i chant to the palm of my    
hand4 ,the lines in the tips of my      
fingers could not be duplicated in a    
million years4 ,shall any man ask me to 
prove there are miracles or to put my   
finger on ,god8 or to go out into some  
great breath of emptiness or argument to
 be sure there is a ,god8 ,i am         
infinite4 ,therefore there is a ,god4 ,i
 feel daily the ,god within me4 ,has ,he
 not kindled the fire in my bones and   
out of the burning dust warmed me before
 the stars--made a hearth for my soul   
before them8 ,i am at home with them4 ,i
 sit daily before worlds as at my own   

fireside4  ,i suppose there is something
 intolerant and impatient and a little  
heartless about an optimist--especially 
the kind of optimism that is based upon 
a simple everyday rudimentary joy in the
 structure of the world4 ,there is such 
a thing1 ,i suppose1 with some of us1 as
 having a kind of devilish pride in     
faith1 as one would say to ordinary     
mortals and creepers and considerers and
 arguers ,oh now just see me believe6   
,we are like boys taking turns jumping  
in the ,great ,vacant ,lot1 seeing which
 can believe the furthest4 ,we need to  
be reminded that a man cannot simply    
bring a little brag to ,god1 about ,his 
world1 and make a religion out of it4 ,i
 do not doubt in the least1 as a matter 
of theory1 that ,i have the wrong       
spirit--sometimes--toward the scientific
 man who lives around the corner of my  
mind4 ,it seems to me he is always      
suggesting important-looking unimportant
 things4 ,i have days of sympathizing   
with him1 of rolling his great useless  

heavy-empty pack up upon my shoulders   
and strapping it there4 ,but before ,i  
know it ,i'm off4 ,i throw it away or   
melt it down into a tablet or           
something--put it in my pocket4 ,i walk 
jauntily before ,god4  ,and the worst of
 it is1 ,i think ,he intended me to4 ,i 
think ,he intended me to know and to    
keep knowing daily what ,he has done for
 me and is doing now1 out in the        
universe1 and what ,he has made me to   
do4 ,i also am a ,god4 ,from the first  
time ,i saw the sun ,i have been one    
daily4 ,i have performed daily all the  
homelier miracles and all the common    
functions of a ,god4 ,i have breathed   
the ,invisible into my being4 ,out of   
the air of heaven ,i have made flesh4 ,i
 have taken earth from the earth and    
burned it within me and made it into    
prayers and into songs4 ,i have said to 
my soul ,to eat is to sing4 ,i worship  
all over4 ,i am my own sacrament4 ,i lay
 before ,god nights of sleep1 and the   
delight and wonder of the flesh ,i      

render back to ,him again1 daily1 as an 
offering in ,his sight4  ,and what is   
true of my literal body--of the joy of  
my hands and my feet1 is still more true
 of the hands of my hands4  ,when ,i    
wake in the night and send forth my     
thought upon the darkness1 track out my 
own infinity in it1 feel my vast body of
 earth and sky reaching around me1 all  
telegraphed through with thought1 and   
floored with steel1 ,i may have to grope
 for a ,god a little 7,i do sometimes71 
but ,i do it with loud cheers4 ,i sing  
before the door of heaven if there is a 
heaven or needs to be a heaven4 ,when ,i
 look upon the glory of the other       
worlds1 has not science itself told me  
that they are a part of me and ,i a part
 of them8 ,nothing is that would not be 
different without something else4 ,my   
thoughts are ticking through the clouds1
 and the great sun itself is creeping   
through me daily down in my bones4 ,the 
steam cloud hurries for me on a hundred 
seas4 ,i turn over in my sleep at       

midnight and lay my hand on the noon4   
,and when ,i have slept and walk forth  
in the morning1 the stars flow in my    
veins4 ,why should a man dare to whine8 
,whine not at me6 ,i have said to man my
 brother4 ,if you cannot sing to me do  
not interrupt me4    ,let him sing to me
   ,who sees the watching of the stars  
above the day1   ,who hears the singing 
of the sunrise   ,on its way   ,through 
all the night4   ,who outfaces skies1   
outsings the storms1   ,whose soul has  
roamed   ,infinite-homed   ,through     
tents of ,space1   ,his hand in the dim 
,great ,hand that forms   ,all wonder4  
,let him sing to me   ,who is ,the ,sky 
,voice1 ,the ,thunder ,lover   ,who     
hears above the wind's fast-flying      
shrouds   ,the drifted darkness1 the    
heavenly strife1   ,the singing on the  
sunny sides of all the clouds1   ,of    
,his ,own ,life4     ,,vi  ,,the ,,idea 
,,of ,,the ,,unseen ,,and ,,intangible  
,,an ,,ode ,,to ,,the ,,unseen    ,poets
 of flowers1 singers of nooks in ,space1

   ,petal-mongers1 embroiderers of words
   ,in the music-haunted houses of the  
birds1   ,singers with the thrushes and 
pewees   ,in the glimmer-lighted roofs  
,of the trees--   ,unhand my soul6      
,buds with singing in their hearts1     
,birds with blooms upon their wings1    
,all the wandering whispers of delight1 
,the near familiar things2   ,voice of  
pine trees1 winds of daisies1   ,sounds 
of going in the grain   ,shall not bind 
me to thy singing   ,when the sky with  
,god is ringing   ,for the ,joy of the  
,rain4   ,sea and star and hill and     
thunder1   ,dawn and sunset1 noon and   
night1   ,all the vast processional of  
the wonder   ,where the worlds are1     
,where my soul is1   ,where the shining 
tracks are   ,for the spirit's flight-- 
,lift thine eyes to these   ,from the   
haunts of dewdrops1   ,hollows of the   
flowers1   ,caves of bees   ,that sing  
like thee1   ,only in their bowers2     
,from the stately growing cities   ,of  
the little blowing leaves1   ,to the    

infinite windless eaves   ,of the stars2
   ,from the dainty music of the ground1
   ,the dim innumerable sound   ,of the 
,mighty ,sun   ,creeping in the grass1  
,softest stir of ,his feet   7,where    
they go   ,far and slow   ,on their     
immemorial beat   ,of buds and seeds    
,and all the gentle and holy needs   ,of
 flowers71   ,to the old eternal round  
,of the ,going of ,his ,might1   ,above 
the confines of the dark1   ,odors and  
winds and showers1   ,day and night1    
,above the dream of death and birth     
,flickering ,east and ,west1            
,boundaries of a ,shadow of an ,earth-- 
,where ,he wheels   ,and soars   ,and   
plays   ,in illimitable light1   ,sends 
the singing stars upon their ways   ,and
 on each and every world   ,when ,the   
,little ,shadow for its ,little ,sleep  
,is furled--   ,pours the ,days4        
99       99       99       99       99  
,the first time ,i gazed in the great   
town upon a solid mile of electric      
cars--threaded with ,nothing--mesmerism 

hauling a whole city home to supper1 it 
seemed to me as if the central power of 
all things1 ,the ,thing that floats and 
breathes through the universe1 must have
 been found by someone--gathered up from
 between stars1 and turned on--poured   
down gently on the planet--falling on a 
thousand wheels1 and run on the tops of 
cars--the secret thrill that softly and 
out in the darkness and through all ages
 had done all things4 ,i felt as if ,i  
had seen the infinite in some near      
familiar1 humdrum place4 ,i walked on in
 a dazed fashion4 ,i do not suppose ,i  
could really have been more surprised if
 ,i had met a star walking in the       
street4    ,in my deepest dream   ,i    
heard the ,song   ,running in my sleep  
,through the lowest caves of ,being     
,down below   ,where no sound is1 sun   
is1   ,hearing1 seeing   ,that men know4
  ,there was something about it1 about  
that sense of the mile of cars moving1  
that made it all seem very old4   ,an   
,ode to the ,lightning4    ,before the  

first new dust of dream ,god took   ,for
 making man and hope and love and graves
   ,had kindled to its fate4 ,before the
 floods   ,had folded round the hills4  
,before the rainbow   ,born of cloud had
 taught the sky its tints1   ,the       
,lightning ,minstrel was4 ,the cry of   
,vague   ,to ,vague4 ,the ,chaos-voice  
that rolled and crept   ,from out the   
pale bewildered wonder-stuff   ,that    
wove the worlds1   ,before the ,hand had
 stirred that touched them1   ,while    
still1 hinged on nothing1   ,dim and    
shapeless ,things   ,and clouds with    
groping sleep upon their wings          
,floated and waited4   ,before the winds
 had breathed the breath of life   ,or  
blown from wastes of ,space   ,to       
,earth's creating place1   ,the souls of
 seeds   ,and ghosts of old dead stars1 
,the ,lightning ,spirit willed   ,their 
feet with wonder should be thrilled4    
--,primal fire of all desire   ,that    
leaps from men to men1   ,brother of    
,suns   ,and all the ,glorious ,ones    

,that circle skies1   ,he flashed to    
these   ,the night that brought the     
birth1   ,the vision of the place   ,and
 raised his awful face   ,to all their  
glittering crowds1   ,and cried from    
where ,it lay   --,a tiny ball of fire  
and clay   ,in swaddling clothes of     
clouds1   ,behold the ,earth6           
99     99     99     99     99          
99     99     99     99     99    ,oh   
heavenly feet of ,the ,hot ,cloud6      
,bringer   ,of the garnered airs4       
,herald of the shining rains6   ,looser 
of the locked and lusty winds from their
 misty caves4   ,opener of the thousand 
thousand-gloried doors twixt heaven     
,and heaven and ,heaven's heaven4  ,oh  
thou whose play   ,men make to do their 
work 7,why do their work87   --,and call
 from holidays of space1 sojourns   ,of 
suns and moons1 and lock to earth       
7,why lock to earth87           99      
99     99     99     99    ,that the    
,dead ,face may flash across the seas   
,the cry of the new-born babe be heard  

around   ,a world4 ,ah me6 and the click
 of lust   ,and the madness and the     
gladness and the ache   ,of ,dust1      
,dust6   ,,an ,,ode ,,to ,,the          
,,telegraph ,,wires4  ,,the ,,song ,,the
 ,,world ,,sang ,,laying ,,the          
,,atlantic ,,cable    ,the mortal wires 
of the heart of the earth   ,i sing1    
melted and fused by men1   ,that the    
immortal fires of their souls should    
fling   ,to eaves of heaven and caves of
 sea1   ,and ,god ,himself1 and farthest
 hills and dimmest bounds of sense      
,the flame of the ,creature's ken1      
,the flame of the glow of the face of   
,god   ,upon the face of men4           
,wind-singing wires   ,along their      
thousand airy aisles1   ,feet of birds  
and songs of leaves1   ,glimmer of stars
 and dewy eves4   ,sea-singing wires    
,along their thousand slimy miles1      
,shadowy deeps1   ,unsunned steeps1     
,beating in their awful caves   ,to     
mouthing fish and bones   ,and weeds    
unfurled   ,deserts of waves   ,the     

heart-beat of this upper world4         
,infinite blue1 infinite green1         
,infinite glory of the ear   ,ticking   
its passions through   ,infinite fear1  
,ooze of storm1 sodden and slanting     
wrecks   ,the forever untrodden decks   
,of ,death1   ,ever the seething wires  
,on the floors   ,of the world1   ,below
 the last   ,locked fast                
,water-darkened doors   ,of the sun1    
,lighting the awful signal fires   ,of  
our speechless vast desires   ,on the   
mountains and the hills   ,of the sea   
,till the sandy-buried heights   ,and   
the sullen sunken vales   ,and          
fire-defying barrens of the deep   ,the 
hearth of souls shall be   ,beacons of  
,thought1   ,and from the lurk of the   
shark   ,to the sunrise-lighted eerie of
 the lark   ,and where the farthest     
cloud-sail fills   ,shall be felt the   
throbbing and the sobbing and the hoping
   ,the might and mad delight1   ,the   
hell-and-heaven groping   ,of our little
 human wills4   ,,an ,,ode ,,to ,,the   

,,wireless  ,,the ,,prayer ,,of ,,man   
,,through ,,all ,,the ,,years ,,in      
,,which ,,the ,,sky-,,telegraph ,,would 
,,not ,,work    ,roofed in with fears1  
,beneath its little strip of sky   ,that
 is blown about   ,in and out   ,across 
my wavering strip of years--   ,who am  
,i   ,whose singing scarce doth reach   
,the cloud-climbed hills1   ,to take    
upon my lips the speech   ,of those     
whose voices ,heaven fills   ,with      
splendor8    ,and yet--   ,i cannot     
quite forget   ,that in the underdawn of
 dreams   ,i have felt the faint surmise
   ,shining through the starry deep of  
my sleep   ,that ,i with ,god went      
singing once   ,up and down with suns   
and storms   ,through the               
phantom-pillared forms   ,and           
stately-silent naves   ,and             
thunder-dreaming caves   ,of ,heaven4   
,great ,spirit--,thou who in my being's 
burning mesh   ,hath wrought the shining
 of the mist through and through the    
flesh1   ,who1 through the              

double-wondered glory of the dust       
,hast thrust   ,habits of skies upon me1
 souls of days and nights1   ,where are 
the deeds that needs must be1   ,the    
dreams1 the high delights1   ,that ,i   
once more may hear my voice   ,from     
cloudy door to door rejoice--   ,may    
stretch the boundaries of love   ,beyond
 the mumbling1 mock horizons of my fears
   ,to the faint-remembered glory of    
those years--   ,may lift my soul   ,and
 reach this ,heaven of thine   ,with    
mine8   ,where are the gleams8   ,thou  
shalt tell me1   ,shalt compel me4      
,the sometime glory shall return   ,i   
know4    ,the day shall be   ,when by   
wondering ,i shall learn   ,with        
vapor-fingers to discern   ,the         
music-hidden keys of skies--   ,shall   
touch like thee   ,until they answer me 
,the chords of the silent air   ,and    
strike the wild and slumber-music out   
,dreaming there4   ,above the hills of  
singing that ,i know   ,on the          
trackless1 soundless path   ,that wonder

 hath   ,i shall go1   ,beyond the      
street-cry of the poet1   ,the          
hurdy-gurdy singing   ,of the throngs1  
,to the ,throne of ,silence1   ,where   
the ,doors   ,that guard the farthest   
faintest shores   ,of ,day   ,swing     
their bars1   ,and shut the songs of    
heaven in   ,from all our dreaming-doing
 din1   ,behind the stars4    ,there1 at
 last1   ,the climbing and the singing  
passed1   ,and the cry1   ,my hushed and
 listening soul shall lie   ,at the feet
 of the place   ,where the ,singer sings
   ,who ,hides ,his ,face4     ,,vii    
,,the ,,idea ,,of ,,great ,,men    ,i   
had a vision under a green hedge   ,a   
hedge of hips and haws--,men yet shall  
hear   ,archangels rolling over the high
 mountains   ,old ,satan's empty skull4 
,as it looks from ,,mount ,,tom1 casting
 a general glance around1 the ,earth has
 about been put into shape1 now1 to do  
things4  ,the ,earth has never been seen
 before looking so trim and             
convenient--so ready for action--as it  

is now4 ,steamships and looms and       
printing presses and railways have been 
supplied1 wireless telegraph furnishings
 have lately been arranged throughout1  
and we have put in speaking tubes on    
nearly all the continents1 and it       
looks--as seen from ,mount ,tom1 at     
least1 as if the planet were just being 
finished up1 now1 for a ,great ,author4 
,it is true that art and literature do  
not have1 at first glance1 a prosperous 
look in a machine age1 but probably the 
real trouble the modern world is having 
with its authors is not because it is a 
world full of materialism and machinery1
 but because its authors are the wrong  
size4  ,the modern world as it booms    
along recognizes this1 in its practical 
way1 and instead of stopping to speak to
 its little authors1 to its poets crying
 beside it1 and stooping to them and    
encouraging them1 it is quietly and     
sensibly 7as it seems to some of us7    
going on with its machines and things   
making preparations for bigger ones4  ,i

 have thought the great authors in every
 age were made by the greatness of the  
listening to them4 ,the greatest of all1
 ,i notice1 have felt listened to by    
,god4 ,even the lesser ones 7who have   
sometimes been called greatest7 have    
felt listened to1 most of them1 one     
finds1 by nothing less than nations4    
,the man ,jesus gathers kingdoms about  
,him in ,his talk1 like an infant class4
 ,it was the way ,he felt4 ,almost any  
one who could have felt himself listened
 to in this daring way that ,jesus did  
would have managed to say something4 ,he
 could hardly have missed1 one would    
think1 letting fall one or two great    
ideas at least--ideas that nations would
 be born for4  ,it ought not to be      
altogether without meaning to a modern  
man that the great prophets and         
interpreters have talked as a rule to   
whole nations and that they have talked 
to them generally1 too1 for the glory of
 the whole earth4 ,they could not get   
their souls geared smaller than a whole 

earth4 ,shakspeare feels the generations
 stretching away like galleries around  
him listening--when he makes love4 ,it  
was no particular heroism or patience in
 the man ,columbus that made him sail   
across an ocean and discover a          
continent4 ,he had the girth of an earth
 in him and had to do something with it4
 ,he could not have helped it4 ,he      
discovered ,america because he felt     
crowded4  ,one would think from the way 
some people have of talking or writing  
of immortality that it must be a kind of
 knack4 ,as a matter of historic fact it
 has almost always been some mere great 
man's helplessness4 ,when people have to
 be created and born on purpose1        
generation after generation of them1 to 
listen to a man1 two or three thousand  
years of them sometimes1 on this planet1
 it is because the man himself when he  
spoke felt the need of them--and        
mentioned it4 ,it is the man who is in  
the habit of addressing his remarks to a
 few continents and to several centuries

 who gets them4  ,i would not dare to   
say just how or when our next great     
author on this earth is going to happen 
to us1 but ,i shall begin to listen hard
 and look expectant the first time ,i   
hear of a man who gets up on his feet   
somewhere in it and who speaks as if the
 whole earth were listening to him4 ,if 
ever there was an earth that is getting 
ready to listen1 and to listen all over1
 it is this one4 ,and the first great   
man who speaks in it is going to speak  
as if he knew it4 ,it is a world which  
has been allowed about a million years  
now1 to get to the point where it could 
be said to begin to be conscious of     
being a world at all4 ,and ,i cannot    
believe that a world which for the first
 time in its history has at last the    
conveniences for listening all over1 if 
it wants to1 is not going to produce at 
the same time a man who shall have      
something to say to it--a man that shall
 be worthy of the first single full     
audience1 sunset to sunset1 that has    

ever been thought of4 ,it would seem as 
if1 to say the least1 such an audience  
as this1 gathering half in light and    
half in darkness around a star1 would   
celebrate by having a man to match4 ,it 
would not be necessary for him to fall  
back1 either1 one would think1 upon     
anything that has ever been said or     
thought of before4 ,already even in the 
sight and sounds of this present world  
has the verse of scripture about the    
next come true--,eye hath not seen nor  
ear heard4 ,it is not conceivable that  
there shall not be something said       
unspeakably and incredibly great to the 
first full house the planet has         
afforded4  ,i have gone to the place of 
books4 ,i have seen before this all the 
peoples flocking past me under the earth
 with their little corner-saviors--each 
with his own little disc of worship all 
to himself on the planet--partitioned   
away from the rest for thousands of     
years4 ,but now the whole face of the   
earth is changed4 ,no longer can great  

men and great events be aimed at it and 
glanced off on it--into single nations4 
,great men1 when they come now1 can     
generally have a world at their feet4   
,it is not possible that we shall not   
have them4 ,the whole earth is the wager
 that we are going to have them4 ,the   
bids are out--great statesmen1 great    
actors1 great financiers1 great         
authors--even millionaires will         
gradually grow great4 ,it cannot be     
helped4 ,and it will be strange if      
someone cannot think of something to    
say1 with the first full house this     
planet has afforded4  ,even as it is    
now1 let any man with a great girth of  
love in him but speak once--but speak   
one single round-the-world delight and  
nations sit at his feet4 ,when ,rudyard 
,kipling is dying with pneumonia seven  
seas listen to his breathing4 ,the      
nations are in galleries on the stage of
 the earth now1 one listening above the 
other to the same play following around 
the sunrise4 ,every one is affected by  

it--a kind of soul-suction--a great     
pulling from the world4 ,people who do  
not want to write at all feel it--a kind
 of huge1 soft1 capillary attraction    
apparently--to a pen4 ,the whole planet 
kindles every man's solitude4           
,continents are bellows for the glow in 
him if there is any4 ,the wireless      
telegraph beckons ideas around the      
world4 ,how does a planet applaud8      
dreams the young author4 ,with a faint  
flush of light8 ,one would like to be   
liked by it--speak one's little piece to
 it4 ,when one was through1 one could   
hear the soft hurrah through ,space4  ,i
 wonder sometimes that in ,this         
,presence ,i ever could have thought or 
had times of thinking it was a little or
 a lonely world to write in--to flicker 
out thoughts in4 ,when ,i think of what 
a world it was that came to men once and
 of the world that waits around         
me--around all of us now--,i do like to 
mention it4  ,when many years ago1 as a 
small boy1 ,i was allowed for the first 

time to open the little inside door in  
the paddle-box of a great side-wheel    
steamer and watched its splendid thrust 
on the sea1 ,i did not know why it was  
that ,i could not be called away from   
it1 or why ,i stood and watched hour    
after hour unconscious before it--the   
thunder and the foam piling up upon my  
being4 ,i have guessed now4 ,i watch the
 drive-wheel of an engine now as if ,i  
were tracking out at last the last      
secret of loneliness4 ,i face ,time and 
,space with it4 ,i know ,i have but to  
do a true deed and ,i am crowded        
round--to help me do it4 ,i know ,i have
 but to think a true thought1 but to be 
true and deep enough with a book--feel a
 worldful for it1 put a worldful in     
it--and the whole planet will look over 
my shoulder while ,i write4 ,thousands  
of printing presses under a thousand    
skies ,i hear truth working softly1     
saying over and over1 and around and    
around the earth1 the word that was     
given to me to say4  ,can any one       

believe that this strange new1 deep1    
beautiful1 clairvoyant feeling a man has
 nowadays every day1 every hour1 for the
 other side of a star1 is not going to  
make arts and men and words and actions 
great in the world8  ,silently1 you and 
,i1 ,gentle ,reader1 are watching the   
first great gathering-in of a world to  
listen and to live4 ,the continents are 
unanimous4 ,there has never been a      
quorum before4 ,they are getting        
together at last for the first          
world-sized man1 for the first          
world-sized word4 ,they are listening   
him into life4 ,it is really getting to 
be a planet now1 a whole completed      
articulated1 furnished1 lived-through1  
loved-through star1 from sun's end to   
sun's end4 ,one sees the sign on it     
,,to ,,let   ,,to ,,any ,,man ,,who     
,,really ,,wants ,,it4     ,,viii  ,,the
 ,,idea ,,of ,,love ,,and ,,comradeship 
,ever there comes an onward phrase to me
   ,of some transcendent music ,i have  
heard2   ,no piteous thing by soft hands

 dulcimered1   ,no trumpet crash of     
blood-sick victory4   ,but a glad strain
 of some still symphony   ,that no proud
 mortal touch has ever stirred4   ,have 
you ever walked out over the hill in    
your city at night1 ,gentle             
,reader--your own city--felt the soul of
 it lying about you--lying there in its 
gentleness and splendor and lust8 ,have 
you never felt as you stood there that  
you had some right to it1 some right way
 down in your being--that all this haze 
of light and darkness1 all the people in
 it1 somehow really belonged to you8 ,we
 do not exactly let our souls say it--at
 least out loud--but there are times    
when ,i have been out in the street with
 ,the ,others1 when ,i have heard       
them--heard our souls1 that is--all     
softly trooping through us1 saying it to
 ourselves4 ,o to know--to be utterly   
known one moment2 to have1 if only for  
one second1 twenty thousand souls for a 
home2 to be gathered around by a city1  
to be sought out and haunted by some one

 great all-love1 once1 streets and      
silent houses of it6  ,i go up and down 
the pavements reaching out into the days
 and nights of the men and the women4   
,perhaps you have seen me1 ,gentle      
,reader1 in ,the ,great ,street1 in the 
long1 slow shuffle with the others8 ,and
 ,i have said to you though ,i did not  
know it3 ,did you not call to me8 ,did  
you hear anything8 ,i think it was ,i   
calling to you4  ,i have sat at the feet
 of cities4 ,i have swept the land with 
my soul4 ,i have gone about and looked  
upon the face of the earth4 ,i have     
demanded of smoking villages sweeping   
past and of the mountains and of the    
plains and of the middle of the sea3    
,where are those that belong to me8     
,will ,i ever travel near enough1 far   
enough8 ,i have gone up and down the    
world--seen the countless men and women 
in it1 standing on either side of their 
,abyss of ,circumstance1 beckoning and  
reaching out4 ,i have seen men and women
 sleepless1 or worn1 or old1 casting    

their bread upon the waters1 grasping at
 sunsets or afterglows1 putting their   
souls like letters in bottles4 ,some of 
them seem to be flickering their lives  
out like ,marconi messages into a sort  
of infinite1 swallowing human space4    
,always this same wild aimless sea of   
living4 ,there does not seem to be a    
geography for love4 ,my soul answered   
me3 ,did you expect a world to be       
indexed8 ,life is steered by a ,wind4   
,blossoms and cyclones and sunshine and 
you and ,i--all blundering along        
together4 ,let every seed swell for     
itself1 the ,universe has said1 in its  
first fine careless rapture4 ,god is    
merely having a good time4 ,why should  
,i go up and down a universe crying     
through it1 ,where are those that belong
 to me8 ,i have looked at the stars     
swung out at me and they have not       
answered1 and now when ,i look at the   
men1 ,i have seemed to see them1 every  
man in a kind of dull might1 rushing1   
his hands before him1 hinged on         

emptiness4 ,you are alone1 the heart    
hath said4 ,get up and be your own      
brother4 ,the world is a great ,,who    
,,cares8  ,but when1 in the middle of   
deep1 helpless sleep1 tossed on the wide
 waters1 ,i wake in a ship1 feel it     
trembling all through out there with my 
brother's care for me1 ,i know that this
 is not true4 ,around sunsets1 out      
through the great dark1 ,i find myself  
saying1 he has reached over and held me4
 ,out here on this high hill of water1  
under this low1 touching sky1 ,i sleep4 
,sometimes ,i do not sleep4 ,i lie awake
 silently1 and feel gathered around4 ,i 
wonder if ,i could be lonely if ,i      
tried4 ,i touch the button by my pillow4
 ,i listen to great cities tending me4  
,i have found all the earth paved1 or   
carpeted1 or hung1 or thrilled through  
with my brother's thoughts for me4 ,i   
cannot hide from love4 ,he has hired    
oceans to do my errands4 ,he has made   
the whole human race my house-servants4 
,i lie in my berth for sheer joy1       

thinking of the strange peoples where   
the morning is1 running to and fro for  
me1 down under the dark4 ,next me1 the  
great quiet throb of the engine--between
 me and infinite space--beating         
comfortably4 ,i cannot help answering to
 it--this soft and mighty reaching out  
where ,i lie4  ,my thoughts follow along
 the great twin shafts my brother holds 
me with4 ,i wonder about them4 ,i wish  
to do and share with them4    ,were ,i a
 spirit ,i would go   ,where the        
murmuring axles of the screws   ,along  
their whirling aisles   ,break through  
the hold1   ,where they lift the awful  
shining thews   ,of ,thought1   ,of     
,trade1   ,and strike the ,sea   ,till  
the scar of ,london lies   ,miles and   
miles upon its breast   ,out in the     
,west4  ,as ,i lie and look out of my   
port-hole and watch the starlight       
stepping along the sea ,i let my soul go
 out and visit with it4 ,the ship ,i am 
in--a little human beckoning between two
 deserts4 ,out through my port-hole ,i  

seem to see other ships1 ghosts of great
 cities--an ocean of them1 creeping     
through their still huge picture of the 
night1 with their low hoarse whistles   
meeting one another1 whispering to one  
another under the stars4  ,and they are 
all mine1 ,i say1 hastening gently4  ,i 
lie awake thinking of it4 ,i let my     
whole being float out upon the thought  
of it4 ,the bare thought of it1 to me1  
is like having lived a great life4 ,it  
is as if ,i had been allowed to be a    
great man a minute4 ,i feel rested down 
through to before ,i was born4 ,the very
 stars1 after it1 seem rested over my   
head4 ,i have gathered my universe about
 me4 ,it is as if ,i had lain all still 
in my soul and some beautiful eternal   
sleep--a minute of it--had come to me   
and visited me4 ,all men are my         
brothers4 ,is not the world filled with 
hastening to me8 ,what is there my      
brother has not done for me8 ,from the  
uttermost parts of the morning1 all     
things that are flow fresh and beautiful

 upon my flesh4 ,he has laid my will on 
the heavens4 ,his machines are like the 
tides that do not stop4 ,they are a part
 of the vast antenn of the earth4 ,they 
have grown themselves upon it4 ,like    
wind and vapor and dust1 they are a part
 of the furnishing of the earth4 ,if ,i 
am cold and seek furs ,alaska is as near
 as the next snowdrift4 ,my brother has 
caused it to be so4 ,everywhere is five 
cents away4 ,i take tea in ,pekin with a
 spoon from ,australia and a saucer from
 ,dresden4 ,with the handle of my knife 
from ,india and the blade from          
,sheffield1 ,i eat meat from ,kansas4   
,thousands of miles bring me spoonfuls4 
,the taste in my mouth1 five or six     
continents have made for me4 ,the isles 
of the sea are on the tip of my tongue4 
,and this is the thing my brother means1
 the thing he has done for me1 solitary4
 ,i keep saying it over to myself4 ,i   
lie still and try to take it in--to feel
 the touch of the hands of his hands4   
,does any one say this thing he is doing

 is done for money--that it is not done 
for comradeship or love8 ,could money   
have thought of it or dared it or       
desired it8 ,could all the money in the 
world ever pay him for it8 ,this        
paper-ticket ,i give him--for this berth
 ,i lie in--does it pay him for it8 ,do 
,i think to pay my fare to the          
infinite8--,i--a parasite of a great    
roar in a city8 ,these seven nights in  
the hollow of his hand he has held me   
and let me look upon the heaped-up      
stillness in heaven--of clouds4 ,i have 
visited with the middle of the sea4     
,and now with a thought1 have ,i        
furnished my hot plain and smoke        
forever4  ,i have not time to dream4 ,i 
spell out each night1 before ,i sleep1  
some vast new far-off love1 this new    
daily sense of mutual service1 this     
whole round world to measure one's being
 against4 ,crowds wait on me in silence4
 ,i tip nations with a nickel4 ,who     
would believe it8 ,i lie in my berth and
 laugh at the bigness of my heart4      

,when ,i go out on the meadow at high   
noon and in the great sleepy sunny      
silence there ,i stand and watch that   
long imperious train go by putting      
together the ,white ,mountains and ,new 
,york1 it is no longer as it was at     
first1 a mere train by itself to me1--a 
flash of parlor cars between a great    
city and a sky up on ,mt4 ,washington4  
,when it swings up between my two little
 mountains its huge banner of steam and 
smoke1 it is the beckoning of ,the      
,other ,trains1 the whole starful1      
creeping through the ,alps 7that        
moment71 stealing up the ,andes1 roaring
 through the sun or pounding through the
 dark on the under sides of the world4  
,in the great silence on the meadow     
after the train rolls by1 it would be   
hard to be lonely for a minute1 not to  
stand still1 not to share in spirit     
around the earth a few of the big1 happy
 things--the far unseen peoples in the  
sun1 the streets1 the domes and towers1 
the statesmen1 and poets1 but always    

between and above and beneath the       
streets and the domes and the towers1   
and the statesmen and poets--always the 
engineers1--,i keep seeing them--these  
men who dip up the world in their hands1
 who sweep up life 444 long1 narrow1    
little towns of souls1 and bowl them    
through the ,days and ,nights4  ,in this
 huge1 bottomless1 speechless1 modern   
world--one would rather be running the  
poems than writing them4 ,at night ,i   
turn in my sleep4 ,i hear the midnight  
mail go by--that same still face before 
it1 the great human headlight of it4 ,i 
lie in my bed wondering4 ,and when the  
thunder of the ,face has died away1 ,i  
am still wondering4 ,out there on the   
roof of the world1 thundering alone1    
thundering past death1 past glimmering  
bridges1 past pale rivers1 folding away 
villages behind him 7the strange1 soft1 
still little villages71 pounding on the 
switch-lights1 scooping up the stations1
 the fresh strips of earth and sky4444  
,the cities swoon before him 444 swoon  

past him4 ,thundering past his own      
thunder1 echoes dying away 444 and now  
out in the great plain1 out in the      
fields of silence1 drinking up mad      
splendid1 little black miles4444 ,every 
now and then he thinks back over his    
shoulder1 thinks back over his long     
roaring1 yellow trail of souls4 ,he     
laughs bitterly at sleep1 at the men    
with tickets1 at the way the men with   
tickets believe in him4 ,he knows 7he   
grips his hand on the lever7 he is not  
infallible4 ,once 444 twice 444 he might
 have 444 he almost4444 ,then suddenly  
there is a flash ahead 444 he sets his  
teeth1 he reaches out with his soul 444 
masters it1 he strains himself up to his
 infallibility again 444 all those      
people there 444 fathers1 mothers1      
children1 444 sleeping on their arms    
full of dreams4 ,he feels as the        
minister feels1 ,i should think1 when   
the bells have stopped on a ,sabbath    
morning1 when he stands in his pulpit   
alone1 alone before ,god 444 alone      

before the ,great ,silence1 and the     
people bow their heads4  ,but ,i have   
found that it is not merely the machines
 that one can see at a glance are woven 
all through with men 7like the great    
trains7 which make the big companions4  
,it is a mere matter of getting         
acquainted with the machines and there  
is not one that is not woven through    
with men1 with dim faces of vanished    
lives--with inventors4  ,i have seen    
great wheels1 in steam and in smoke1    
like swinging spirits of the dead4 ,i   
have been told that the inventors were  
no longer with us1 that their little    
tired1 old-fashioned bodies were tucked 
in cemeteries1 in the crypts of         
churches1 but ,i have seen them with    
mighty new ones in the night--in the    
broad day1 in a nameless silence1 walk  
the earth4 ,inventors may not be put    
like engineers1 in show windows in front
 of their machines1 but they are all    
wrought into them4 ,from the first bit  
of cold steel on the cowcatcher to the  

little last whiff of breath in the      
air-brake1 they are wrought in--fibre of
 soul and fibre of body4 ,as the sun and
 the wind are wrought in the trees and  
rivers in the mountains1 they are there4
 ,there is not a machine anywhere1 that 
has not its crowd of men in it1 that is 
not full of laughter and hope and tears4
 ,the machines give one some idea1 after
 a few years of listening1 of what the  
inventors' lives were like4 ,one hears  
them--the machines and the men1 telling 
about each other4  ,there are days when 
it has been given to me to see the      
machines as inventors and prophets see  
them4  ,on these days ,i have seen      
inventors handling bits of wood and     
metal4 ,i have seen them taking up      
empires in their hands and putting the  
future through their fingers4  ,on these
 days ,i have heard the machines as the 
voices of great peoples singing in the  
streets4         99       99       99   
99       99  ,and after all1 the finest 
and most perfect use of machinery1 ,i   

have come to think1 is this one the soul
 has1 this awful1 beautiful daily joy in
 its presence4 ,to have this communion  
with it speaking around one1 on sea and 
land1 and in the low boom of cities1 to 
have all this vast reaching out1 earnest
 machinery of human life--sights and    
sounds and symbols of it1 beckoning to  
one's spirit day and night everywhere1  
playing upon one the love and glory of  
the world--to have--ah1 well1 when in   
the last great moment of life ,i lay my 
universe out in order around about me1  
and lie down to die1 ,i shall remember  
,i have lived4  ,this great sorrowing   
civilization of ours1 which ,i had seen 
before1 always sorrowing at heart but   
with a kind of devilish convulsive      
energy in it1 has come to me and lived  
with me1 and let me see the look of the 
future in its face4  ,and now ,i dare   
look up4 ,for a moment--for a moment    
that shall live forever--,i have seen   
once1 ,i think--at least once1 this     
great radiant gesturing of ,man around  

the edges of a world4 ,i shall not die1 
now1 solitary4 ,and when my time shall  
come and ,i lie down to do it1 oh1      
unknown faces that shall wait with      
me1--let it not be with drawn curtains  
nor with shy1 quiet flowers of fields   
about me1 and silence and darkness4 ,do 
not shut out the great                  
heartless-sounding1 forgetting-looking  
roar of life4 ,rather let the windows be
 opened4 ,and then with the voice of    
mills and of the mighty street--all the 
din and wonder of it1--with the sound in
 my ears of my big brother outside      
living his great life around his little 
earth1 ,i will fall asleep4             
,,bird',s-,,eye ,,view ,,of ,,this      
,,book   ,,part ,,one  ,i4 ,the word    
beautiful in #aije is no longer shut in 
with its ancient rim of hills1 or with a
 show of sunsets1 or with bouquets and  
doilies and songs of birds4 ,it is a    
man's word1 says ,the ,twentieth        
,century4 ,if a hill is beautiful4 ,so  
is the locomotive that conquers a hill4 

,,ii4 ,the modern literary man--slow to 
be converted1 is already driven to his  
task4 ,living in an age in which        
nine-tenths of his fellows are getting  
their living out of machines1 or putting
 their living into them1 he is not      
content with a definition of beauty     
which shuts down under the floor of the 
world nine tenths of his fellowbeings1  
leaves him standing by himself with his 
lonely idea of beauty1 where--except by 
shouting or by looking down through a   
hatchway he has no way of communing with
 his kind4  ,,iii4 ,unless he can       
conquer the machines1 interpret them for
 the soul or the manhood of the men     
about him he sees that after a little   
while--in the great desert of machines1 
there will not be any men4 ,a little    
while after that there will not be any  
machines4 ,he has come to feel that the 
whole problem of civilization turns on  
it--on what seems at first sight an     
abstract or literary theory--that there 
is poetry in machines4 ,if we cannot    

find a great hope or a great meaning for
 the machine-idea in its simplest form1 
the machines of steel and flame that    
minister to us1 if inspiring ideas      
cannot be connected with a machine      
simply because it is a machine1 there is
 not going to be anything left in modern
 life with which to connect inspiring   
ideas4 ,all our great spiritual values  
are being operated as machines4 ,to take
 the stand that inspiring ideas and     
emotions can be and will be connected   
with machinery is to take a stand for   
the continued existence of modern       
religion 7in all reverence7 the         
,god-machine1 for modern education1 the 
man-machine1 for modern government1 the 
crowd-machine1 for modern art1 the      
machine that expresses the crowd1 and   
for modern society--the machine in which
 the crowd lives4  ,,iv4 ,v4 ,the poetry
 in machinery is a matter of fact4 ,the 
literary men who know the men who know  
the machines1 the men who live with     
them1 the inventors1 and engineers and  

brakemen have no doubts about the poetry
 in machinery4 ,the real problem that   
stands in the way of interpreting and   
bringing out the poetry in machinery1   
instead of being a literary or sthetic  
problem is a social one4 ,it is in      
getting people to notice that an        
engineer is a gentleman and a poet4     
,,vi4 ,the inventor is working out the  
passions and the freedoms of the people1
 the tools of the nations4  ,the people 
are already coming to look upon the     
inventor under our modern conditions as 
the new form of prophet4 ,if what we    
call literature cannot interpret the    
tools that men are daily doing their    
living with1 literature as a form of    
art1 is doomed4 ,so long as men are more
 creative and godlike in engines than   
they are in poems the world listens to  
engines4 ,if what we call the church    
cannot interpret machines1 the church as
 a form of religion loses its leadership
 until it does4 ,a church that can only 
see what a few of the men born in an    

age1 are for1 can only help a few4 ,a   
religion that lives in a machine-age and
 that does not see and feel the meaning 
of that age1 is not worthy of us4 ,it is
 not even worthy of our machines4 ,one  
of the machines that we have made could 
make a better religion than this4       
,,part ,,two  ,,the ,,language ,,of     
,,the ,,machines  ,i4 ,i have heard it  
said that if a thing is to be called    
poetic it must have great ideas in it   
and must successfully express them2 that
 the language of the machines1          
considered as an expression of the ideas
 that are in the machines1 is irrelevant
 and absurd4 ,but all language looked at
 in the outside way that men have looked
 at machines1 is irrelevant and absurd4 
,we listen solemnly to the violin1 the  
voice of an archangel with a board      
tucked under his chin4 ,except to people
 who have tried it1 nothing could be    
more inadequate than kissing as a form  
of human expression1 between two        
immortal infinite human beings4  ,,ii4  

,the chief characteristic of the modern 
machine as well as of everything else   
that is strictly modern is that it      
refuses to show off4 ,the man who is    
looking at a twin-screw steamer and who 
is not feeling as he looks at it the    
facts and the ideas that belong with it1
 is not seeing it4 ,the poetry is under 
water4  ,,iii4 ,i have heard it said    
that the modern man does not care for   
poetry4 ,it would be truer to say that  
he does not care for old-fashioned      
poetry--the poetry that bears on4 ,the  
poetry in a ,dutch windmill flourishes  
and is therefore going by1 to the       
strictly modern man4 ,the idle foolish  
look of a magnet appeals to him more4   
,its language is more expressive and    
penetrating4 ,he has learned that in    
proportion as a machine or anything else
 is expressive--in the modern language1 
it hides4 ,the more perfect or poetic he
 makes his machines the more spiritual  
they become4 ,his utmost machines are   
electric4 ,electricity is the modern    

man's prophet4 ,it sums up his world4   
,it has the modern man's                
temperament--the passion of being       
invisible and irresistible4  ,,iv4      
,poetry and religion consist--at bottom1
 in being proud of ,god4 ,most men      
to-day are worshipping ,god--at least in
 secret1 not merely because of this     
great ,machine that ,he has made1       
running softly above us--moonlight and  
starlight 444 but because ,he has made a
 ,machine that can make machines1 a     
machine that shall take more of the dust
 of the earth and of the vapor of heaven
 and crowd it into steel and iron and   
say ,go ye now1--depths of the earth1   
heights of heaven--serve ye me6 ,stones 
and mists1 winds and waters and         
thunder--the spirit that is in thee is  
my spirit4 ,i also1 even ,i also am     
,god6  ,v4 ,everything has its language 
and the power of feeling what a thing   
means1 by the way it looks1 is a matter 
of noticing1 of learning the language4  
,the language of the machines is there4 

,i cannot precisely know whether the    
machines are expressing their ideas or  
not4 ,i only know that when ,i stand    
before a foundry hammering out the      
floors of the world1 clashing its awful 
cymbals against the night1 ,i lift my   
soul to it1 and in some way--,i know not
 how1 while it sings to me1 ,i grow     
strong and glad4   ,,part ,,three  ,,the
 ,,machines ,,as ,,poets  ,i4 ,,ii4     
,machinery has poetry in it because it  
expresses the soul of man--of a whole   
world of men4  ,it has poetry in it     
because it expresses the individual soul
 of the individual man who creates the  
,machine--the inventor1 and the man who 
lives with the machine--the engineer4   
,it has poetry in it because it         
expresses ,god4 ,he is the kind of ,god 
who can make men who can make machines4 
,,iii4 ,,iv4 ,machinery has poetry in it
 because in expressing the man's soul it
 expresses the greatest idea that the   
soul of man can have--the man's sense of
 being related to the ,infinite4 ,it has

 poetry in it not merely because it     
makes the man think he is infinite but  
because it is making the man as infinite
 as he thinks he is4 ,when ,i hear the  
machines1 ,i hear ,man saying1 ,god and 
,i4  ,v4 ,machinery has poetry in it    
because in expressing the infinity of   
man it expresses the two great          
immeasurable ideas of poetry and of the 
imagination and of the soul in all      
ages--the two forms of infinity--the    
liberty and the unity of man4  ,the     
substance of a beautiful thing is its   
,idea4  ,a beautiful thing is beautiful 
in proportion as its form reveals the   
nature of its substance1 that is1       
conveys its idea4  ,machinery is        
beautiful by reason of immeasurable     
ideas consummately expressed4   ,,part  
,,four  ,,the ,,ideas ,,behind ,,the    
,,machines  ,the ideas of machinery in  
their several phases are sketched in    
chapters as follows3  ,i4 ,,ii4 ,the    
idea of the incarnation4 ,the ,god in   
the body of the man4  ,,iii4 ,the idea  

of liberty--the soul's rescue from      
environment4  ,,iv4 ,the idea of        
immortality4  ,v4 ,the idea of ,god4    
,,vi4 ,the idea of the ,spirit--of the  
,unseen and ,intangible4  ,,vii4 ,the   
practical idea of invoking great men4   
,,viii4 ,the religious idea of love and 
comradeship4         99       99        
99       99       99  ,note4--,the      
present volume is the first of a series 
which had their beginnings in some      
articles in the ,atlantic a few years   
ago1 answering or trying to answer the  
question1 ,can a machine age have a     
soul8 ,perhaps it is only fair to the   
present conception1 as it stands1 to    
suggest that it is an overture1 and that
 the various phases and implications of 
machinery--the general bearing of       
machinery in our modern life1 upon      
democracy1 and upon the humanities and  
the arts1 are being considered in a     
series of three volumes called3  ,i4    
,the ,voice of the ,machines4  ,,ii4    
,machines and ,millionaires4  ,,iii4    

,machines and ,crowds4     ,,by ,,the   
,,same ,,author   ,,about ,,an ,,old    
,,new ,,england ,,church4 #a4jj4 ,i have
 read it twice and enjoyed it the second
 time even more than the first4--,oliver
 ,wendell ,holmes4  ,i read the preface1
 and that one little bite out of the    
crust made me as hungry as a man on a   
railroad4 ,what a bright evening full of
 laughter1 touched every now and then   
with tenderness1 it made for us ,i do   
not know how to tell4 ,here is a book ,i
 am glad to indorse as ,i would a       
note--right across the face and present 
it for payment in any man's             
library4--,robert ,j4 ,burdette4   ,,the
 ,,child ,,and ,,the ,,book4 4#ge4 7,g4 
,p4 ,putnam's ,sons47 ,i must express   
with your connivance the joy ,i have    
had1 the enthusiasm ,i have felt1 in    
gloating over every page of what ,i     
believe is the most brilliant book of   
any season since ,carlyle's and         
,emerson's pens were laid aside4 ,it is 
full of humor1 rich in style1 and       

eccentric in form1 and all suffused with
 the perfervid genius of a man who is   
not merely a thinker but a force4 ,every
 sentence is tinglingly alive4444  ,i   
have been reading with wonder and       
laughter and with loud cheers4 ,it is   
the word of all words that needed to be 
spoken just now4 ,it makes me believe   
that after all we haven't a great       
kindergarten about us in authorship1 but
 that there is virtue1 race1 sap in us  
yet4 ,i can conceive that the date of   
the publication of this book may well be
 the date of the moral and intellectual 
renaissance for which we have long been 
scanning the horizon4--,,wm4 ,,sloane   
,,kennedy1 in ,boston ,transcript4      
,,the ,,lost ,,art ,,of ,,reading4      
#a4jj4 7,g4 ,p4 ,putnam's ,sons47 ,it is
 a real pleasure to chronicle an        
intellectual treat among the books of   
the day4 ,some of us will shrug at this 
volume4 ,others of us having read it    
will keep it near us4--,life4  ,mr4 ,lee
 is a writer of great courage1 who      

ventures to say what some people are a  
little alarmed even to                  
think4--,springfield ,republican4  ,you 
get right in between the covers and     
live4--,denver ,post4   ,,the ,,shadow  
,,christ4 #a4be4 7,the ,century ,co47   
,let me be one of the first to recognize
 in this book what every man who reads  
it thoughtfully will feel4 ,heaps of the
 books that have been written about the 
,bible are desiccated to the last grain 
of their dust4 ,they are the desert     
which lies around ,palestine4 ,now and  
then a man appears who makes his way    
straight into the ,promised ,land1 by   
sea if necessary1 and takes you with    
him4 ,it is not meant to be a full1     
precise treatment of the subject4 ,it is
 history seen in a vision4 ,theology    
expressed in a lyric4 ,criticism        
condensed into an epigram4--,,dr4       
,,henry ,,van ,,dyke1 in ,the ,book     
,buyer4  ,the author's name--,gerald    
,stanley ,lee--has been hitherto unknown
 to us in ,england1 but the book he has 

here offered to the world indicates that
 he has that in him which will soon make
 it familiar4--,the ,christian ,world   
7,london74   ,,mount ,,tom4 ,,an ,,all  
,,outdoors ,,magazine1 devoted to rest  
and worship1 and to a little look-off on
 the world4  ,edited by ,mr4 ,,lee4     
,every other month4 #ab copies1 #a4jj4  
,,the ,,voice ,,of ,,the ,,machines4    
#a4be4 7,mt4 ,tom ,press47     ,any of  
the above mailed postpaid ordered direct
 from        ,the ,mount ,tom ,press1   
,northampton1 ,mass4