· · · · ·
The wild man’s yell, the groaning wheel,
The train moved like drifting barge;
The dust rose up like a cloud,
Like smoke of distant battle loud! Loud
The great whips rang like shot, and steel
Flashed back as in some battle charge.
They sought, yea, they did find their rest
Along that long and lonesome way,
Those brave men buffeting the West
With lifted faces. Full they were
Of great endeavor.
· · · · ·
When
Adown the shining iron track
We sweep, and fields of corn flash back,
And herds of lowing steers move by,
I turn to other days, to men
Who made a pathway with their dust.