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What's the railroad to me?
I never go to see
Where it ends.
It fills a few hollows,
And makes banks for the swallows,
It sets the sand a-blowing,
And the blackberries a-growing.
This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on July 20, 2013. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive. This poem is in the public domain.
My love must be as free
As is the eagle’s wing,
Hovering o’er land and sea
And everything
I must not dim my eye
In thy saloon,
I must not leave my sky
And nightly moon
True kindness is a pure divine affinity,
Not founded upon human consanguinity
It is a spirit, not a blood relation,
Superior to family and station
Dong, sounds the brass in the east,
As if to a funeral feast,
But I like that sound the best
Out of the fluttering west
The steeple ringeth a knell,
But the fairies' silvery bell
Is the voice of that gentle folk,
Or else the horizon that spoke