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. Sic Vita
2. The Atlantides
3. Nature
4. Inspiration
5. On Fields Oer Which the Reaper's Hand Has Passd

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