The Modern Man needs your help!

My poetry chapbook is due on Tuesday for class, and I'm still struggling with a few last poems. I'd like your input on this one:

Tomorrow’s Future

They pay a shilling to enter the Great Exhibition’s lower gallery.
Riding his father’s shoulders behind the top hat,
the boy’s eyes grow every time he turns his head.
More patient than Virgil, the man strokes his mustache
and waits for his son’s mind to drink down
the reaping machine from the endless fields of America,
the quickest steam gurney from the smooth raceways of Britain,
the big bore rifles from the towering foundries of Germany.
And most of all, the promises of Prince Albert’s new era
represented in the vastness of the exhibition’s scale:
the arched steel girders, entire ash trees beneath acres of glass,
goods from every corner of the Empire and the globe
brought by steamship to the queen’s home in London.
The boy’s imagination cannot be filled,
grown to a bucket as wide as the borders of empire.
Long after the sun has set and even electricity,
new marvel demonstrated by science magicians,
cannot replace it, they turn for home.
Pausing in the halo of a bulb as the lamplighter makes his rounds,
the man asks what the boy thinks of the World in Hyde Park.
“I wonder,” his son whispers, “what the boys will go to see
when they can speak to each other with the power of lightning.”