THE RAILWAY TRAIN.
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks;And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains, And, supercilious, peer In shanties by the sides of roads;And then a quarry pare To fit its sides, and crawl between, Complaining all the while In horrid, hooting stanza;Then chase itself down hill And neigh like Boanerges;Then, punctual as a star, Stop -- docile and omnipotent --At its own stable door.
