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 . . .