Song of the Engine Driver

By a Railway Workman.

Through the dewy Spring dawn, rich in odour and colour,
I glide on my dragon steed proudly away ;
While of glory the amber-flecked sky flashes fuller,
And nimbus gleams dart round the Repent of Day.
Human hearts in my train that Life's hopes' are beguiling,
Heaped wealth in my train that Life's cares have been

In countless sweet voices
Fresh Nature rejoices,

While echoes awake from the mountain sides grey ;
As we rush on our course, with a proud, dashing force,
A tempest-like Might that no arm dare resist ;
Streams over, hills under—with sound as of thunder,  
And long streaming banner of white fleecy mist.

Bronz'd by hot Summer noons, beneath Wintry skies frozen
In Autumn e'er chilled by winds gusty and raw,
Calm I pilot my train o'er the path for us chosen,
Through storm-blasts or sunshine, through snow—drift or thaw.
With a shriek that is heard 'mid the storm's pealing clangour,
With lights that outglare the forked flash in its anger,

My fiery steed rushes,
And then, panting, hushes

Its fierce, snorting fury—the journey is o'er.
We have ended our course of proud, dashing force,
A tempest-like Might that no arm dare resist :
Streams over, hills under —with sound as of thunder.
And long streaming banner of white fleecy mist.

So may Truth's mighty engine—the hope of each nation—
Roll round the vast globe in the ages to be.
Till cruel War be displaced by blest arbitration,
And earth be a hive of the Happy and Free.
May the wheels of stern Science crush hydra-necked Error !
May Pride, Greed, and Hate slink to Hades in terror !

May no slothful slumber
Man's energies cumber !

May Pain, Care, and Sorrow from Love's presence flee,
As it rolls on its course, with a proud, dashing force,
A love-nurtur'd Might that no Wrong dare resist;
Lands over, skies under—e'er bursting asunder
Pale Envy's grim bondage, and Passion's dark mist.

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