TODAY I paid two dollars and was hurled Along an iron road. The murderous might Of steel and bellowing water-demons whirled Swift wheels that bore us out into the light To traverse the broad bosom of the world In summer's glad green and glittering after night. A feast of life it was. For what, indeed, Is life but motion, motion life; and, so, Such sense of care-free, devil-engendered speed, Deep drafts of life with no corrupting woe, A Bacchanalian orgy of all that reed, Pen, brush, or sculptural instrument can show? |