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.