A Lullaby for Travelers

Night and the green curtains of pullman cells . . . Sleep . . . From the car’s end the last loud talker boasts again, While rhythms bright as crickets cheer the brain To wakefulness . . . Sleep softly, children of speed ; Dream to the gentle rumble of moonlit rails; Dream while hurtling to another state, Passing green trees marching, sky-pointed and black. While, panting, the train throws itself Onto the knees of a girl hill, Passing between her breasts softly, in dreamy speed . . . Sleep . . .