Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

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.

1. A Shady Friend for Torrid Days
2. The Goal
3. Sight
4. The Thought Beneath So Slight a Film
5. Portraits Are to Daily Faces

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