Friday, April 18, 2014

Travel — National Poetry Month


The railroad track is miles away,     
      And the day is loud with voices speaking, 
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day     
      But I hear its whistle shrieking. 

All night there isn't a train goes by,     
      Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, 
But I see its cinders red on the sky,     
      And hear its engine steaming. 

My heart is warm with friends I make,     
      And better friends I'll not be knowing; 
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,     
      No matter where it's going.

by Edna St. Vincent Millay 
from Second April (1921), available online via Project Gutenberg

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