Why sure, we come down when the train pulls in. I know the smart young brakies laugh at us, And spring that joke that is as old as sin Of counting all the population thus; If they had lived here, as we did before, And hauled their grain those fifty miles of trail; -- Had floundered through the mud and faced the roar Of blizzards, getting food and clothes and mail; -- Perhaps, like us, they still would get a thrill From seeing long trains chugging up the hill. I dream, sometimes, of half-forgotten days -- Of wife and children waiting, -- hungry, cold -- For me to get home -- and I wake up tossing; And then the pleasure for the dream repays -- I hear the night train whistle at the crossing! Yes, I come down to see the train roll in; -- I s'pose I will, as long as I can walk. I kinda like to see them fellers grin, And hear the nonsense that they always talk; And I still get a quiver up my spine When that fast train comes whistling down the line. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 7. THE IMPOSSIBILITY by PHILIP AYRES FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: MOURNER'S CONSOLED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES IN IMITATION OF HORACE by APHRA BEHN THE SUNLIT VALE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN MATRIMONIAL MELODIES: 1. ASHES TO ASHES by BERTON BRALEY |