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The lines imagine a natural human joy buried under industrial force and chemical escape.

Iron coal and steel presses against the image of babies meant to be laughing in the rain, so innocence is immediately set against a hard mechanical world. Our own storm gives that rain a double edge: it is both trouble and something native to us. No more chemical heaven sounds like a rejection of artificial consolation in favor of a harsher but truer life.

Industrial-childhood lament that refuses the promised clean future: iron, coal, and steel are the inherited body, 'chemical heaven' the refused replacement.

The first stanza makes the body a by-product of heavy industry while still picturing it laughing in its own storm. What reads as nostalgia is really a rebuke: the 'no more' in the last line works backward on the stanza above, as if the speaker suspects the so-called chemical heaven is just another factory with brighter paint. The poem wants the old rain back.