The drone of airplane neared, and dimmed away,
The child beyond high-tide mark still toiled on;
Salt water welled the trench that in his play
He’d dug to beleaguer his grey fortress stone.
Lovely as Eros, and half-naked too,
He heaped dried beach-drift, kindled it, and lo!
The furious furnace roared, the sea-winds blew-
Vengeance divine; and death to every foe!
Young god! and not ev’n Nature eyed askance
The fire-doomed Empire of a myriad Ants.
Immanent
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