Song of a Train

A monster taught

To come to hand

Amain,

As swift as thought

Across the land

The train.

The song it sings

Has an iron sound;

Its iron wings

Like wheels go round.

Crash under bridges,

Flash over ridges,

And vault the downs;

The road is straight —

Nor stile, nor gate;

For milestones — towns!

Voluminous, vanishing, white,

The steam plume trails;

Parallel streaks of light,

The polished rails.

Oh, who can follow?

The little swallow,

The trout of the sky:

But the sun

Is outrun,

And Time passed by.

O'er bosky dens,

By marsh and mead,

Forest and fens

Embodied speed

Is clanked and hurled;

O'er rivers and runnels;

And into the earth

And out again

In death and birth

That know no pain,

For the whole round world

Is a warren of railway tunnels.

Hark! hark! hark!

It screams and cleaves the dark;

And the subterranean night

Is gilt with smoky light.

Then out again apace

It runs its thundering race,

The monster taught

To come to hand

Amain,

That swift as thought

Speeds through the land

The train.