Thine essence pioneered engines of you, The machinations of death beget true, Of the carnage we had devised with you, Left in our steeply costed wake conceived: Sterile, tooth saw, jagged belt and riveted, Steamed bellows, soldered as the new fellows, A hiss and a whine or dial and a chime, An allure of silicon and hot sands, Unfortunate truths, progress made from you.”