Poem by Henry David Thoreau

* * *

What's the railroad to me?
I never go to see
Where it ends.
It fills a few hollows,
And makes banks for the swallows,
It sets the sand a-blowing,
And the blackberries a-growing.

1. The Atlantides
2. Sic Vita
3. Inspiration
4. Let Such Pure Hate Still Underprop
5. They Who Prepare My Evening Meal Below

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