Australian Town and Country Journal, Saturday 2 November 1901 p. 62. |
Whistle and blow ;
Cinder and smoke from my funnel I throw.
Ding, dong,
Swinging along,
Leaping and rocking and roaring a song.
Shriek, hoarse,
Mad with my force ;
Drunken with speed as I rush on my course.
Deaf, blind,
Swifter than wind,
Shaking the earth as I fling it behind .
Stand ! Stare !
Filly and mare,
Nostrils dilated sniffing the air.
Plunge, bolt !
Clipper and colt;
Here is a steed that shall mock your revolt.
Wide, high !
Cleaving the sky,
Drumming the bridge into thunder, I fly.
Clang ! Crash !
Onward I dash ;
How the wrought girders ring, hammer, and clash.
Strong, slow,
Upward I go;
Ramping the rocks to the death-smitten snow.
Strain, fight,
Grip the rails tight ;
Now the grim giant shall show you his might.
Chill, steep,
Panting I creep,
Skirting the precipice, daring the deep.
Hold, steel !
Slowly, I wheel;
Look ye not down lest your senses may reel.
Shriek, hark !
Shrill through the dark,
Black is the tunnel with never a spark.
Speed, fear !
Nothingness drear,
Oh, but the end might come suddenly here !
Keen ! Bright !
Swift to the light;
Day flashes radiant, mocking the night.
High, steep,
Plugging, I leap ;
Down to the valleys, exultant, I sweep.
Ho ! Ho !
Whistle and blow ;
Pulling the lever and letting her go.
Swing, heel,
Inward I keel,
Flying the curves as I bend and I wheel.
Blaze, burn,
Smelting I turn;
Roaring in triumph, the mountain I spurn.
Shriek ! Scream !
Downward in steam,
Earthquake and thunder and—gone like a dream.
—Bertrand Shadwell, in "Chicago Post.
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