SAFE and snug in the sleeping-car Are father and mother and sleeping child; The night outside shows never a star, For the storm is thick and the wind is wild. The frenzied train in its all-night race Holds many a soul in its fragile walls, While in his cab, with a smoke-stained face, Is the man in the greasy overalls. Through the firebox door the heat glows white, The steam is hissing at all the cocks; The pistons dance and the drivewheels smite The trembling rails till the whole earth rocks. But never a searching eye could trace — Though the night is black and the speed appals — A line of fear in the smoke-stained face Of the man in the greasy overalls. No halting, wavering coward he, As he lashes his engines around the curve, But a peace-encompassed Grant or Lee, With a heart of oak and an iron nerve. And so I ask that you make a place In the Temple of Heroes' sacred halls Where I may hang the smoke-stained face Of the man in the greasy overalls. |