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

Comments (3)

Love this poem
Brings to mind the longings of a young girl just dying to get out and explore the world. A nicely written poem.
One of my faves for over 50 years and running.... Brings back a lot of associations with the period, wonderful old beaux arts train stations, childhood adventures in sleeper cars, etc....