Travel | Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1921

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.

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