To These I Turn, In These I Trust; Brother Lead And Sister Steel. To His Blind Power I Make Appeal; I Guard Her Beauty Clean From Rust. He Spins And Burns And Loves The Air, And Splits A Skull To Win My Praise; But Up The Nobly Marching Days She Glitters Naked, Cold And Fair. Sweet Sister, Grant Your Soldier This; That In Good Fury He May Feel The Body Where He Sets His Heel Quail From Your Downward Darting Kiss.