SiR: the context is in the tone... <br />this train has that... a big... mEATy... ENGINE... <br />a 'fierce-throated beauty! ' and that can pull through <br />mordant trials, up tracks that contend sacred cast, and <br />with a string o' cars n' coaches, myriad in nature. <br /> <br />i... <br /> <br />i like to see it lap the miles <br />and lick the valleys up <br />and stop to feed itself at tanks, <br />and then - prodigious - step <br />around a pile of mountains, <br />and supercilious peer <br />in shanties, by the sides of roads. <br />And then, a quarry pare <br />to fit its ribs <br />and crawl between <br />complaining all the while <br />in horrid - hooting stanza - <br />then... <br />chase itself down hill <br />and neigheee like Boanerges. <br />And prompter than a Star <br />STOP! docile... omnipotent... <br />at it's own stable door. <br /> <br />THIS train is long - true - but <br />full of a mystical candy, <br />exclusive portions too sweet <br />to taste, for the negligible palates, o'... <br />mere... mortal... men.... <br /> <br />._.<br /><br />Dog goD 8Hate<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-emily-dickson-encomium/
