Dishwasher ! with thy bright, clear flow
with soapy, simmering water,
Thou art the saviour of the glow
of strength — the hidden wishes —
The playful rack full of dishes
Is old Miele’s daughter ;
But when behind thy door I test —
which glisten then, and tremble –Why then, the prettiest princess
my servant does resemble ;
For in my heart, as in thy steam,
My labour is contained —
The rush that thrums as if a team
Of strapping horses strained.