All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

And what do we mean changed
We extract the substances of nature
And we adapt them in the service
Of human self interest
Thus copper’s ductility stands as a property
Inherent and unchanging
But copper does not array itself spontaneously
In strands of wire
Which swoop upward and downward
Between the poles themselves mounted between
US 1 and the Florida East Coast Railway
Which my grandfather helped to build
Through swamp and sand
Palmetto and coquina
And I in the back seat would trace the rising and falling with my hand
As if waving bye bye
We rarely traveled more than 60 MPH
A rate which my father would announce triumphantly
A mile a minute
In the Chevy station wagon seating six
Nor does pigment array itself spontaneously
In Bacchus and Ariadne
Nor language in Easter 1916
We extract the natural forces of image and figure
And adapt them to express
Our fears our conflicts our yearnings and our delight
So yes all is changed
But utterly must be exaggeration
Unless it means changed as much as change can be
And how much is that
While copper remains ductile and salt salty
And eternal beauty hath no birth
In sunrise or sea
Or song of bird
And yet is born
In poem and painting and copper wire