I like to see it lap the Miles — And lick the Valleys up — And stop to feed itself at Tanks — And then — prodigious step

Around a Pile of Mountains — And supercilious peer In Shanties — by the sides of Roads — And then a Quarry pare

To fit it's sides And crawl between Complaining all the while In horrid — hooting stanza — Then chase itself down Hill —

And neigh like Boanerges — Then — prompter than a Star Stop — docile and omnipotent At it's own stable door —