XI.

How many times these low feet staggered,
Only the soldered mouth can tell;
Try! Can you stir the awful rivet?
Try! Can you lift the hasps of steel?

Stroke the cool forehead, hot so often,
Lift, if you can, the battery spare;
Handle the adamantine fingers
And clasp them to the nodules there.

Buzz the dull poles by the chamber window;
Brave crackle the arcs through spotted hands;
Fearless the cobweb swings from the ceiling—
Indolent automaton, rise again!

—

The original, here (the authentic hyphenated version), is quite creepy on its own.