Edna St. Vincent Millay — Travel

The railroad track is miles away,      And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn't a train goes by all day      But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isn't a train goes by,       Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, But I see its cinders red on the sky,      And hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with friends I make,      And better friends I'll not be knowing; Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,      No matter where it's going.


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