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 /> <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 /> <br />To fit its sides, and crawl between, <br />Complaining all the while <br />In horrid, hooting stanza; <br />Then chase itself down the hill <br /> <br />And neigh like Boanerges; <br />Then, punctual as a star, <br />Stop - docile and omnipotent - <br />At its own stable door.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/train/
