I AM riding on a limited express, one of the crack trains of the nation. Hurtling across the prairie into blue haze and dark air go fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thousand people. (All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the men and women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall pass to ashes.) I ask a man in the smoker where he is going and he answers: "Omaha." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TERRE (BEING THE PHILOSOPHY OF MANY SOLDIERS) by WILFRED OWEN LEGEND by JOHN VAN ALSTYN WEAVER AMBITION by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT OUT OF THE SILENCE OF MY DREAMS by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE EPITAPH ON NOISY POLEMIC (BURNS'S 'BLETH'RIN BITCH') by ROBERT BURNS |