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.
Featured in our selection of Poetry for Students and Children's Poems
You might also like Henry David Thoreau's poem, What's the Railroad to Me?
Return to the Emily Dickinson library , or . . . Read the next poem; There Came a Wind Like a Bugle