IT lies upon the rocks, a shattered thing, Here where the valley flood ripped up the rails, No more the hound that on these modern trails Leaped at the whipping steam's fire-furied sting, And scented toward the cities as on wing; Unwarned, unchecked, with weird, half-human wails, As some cliff-driven beast of ancient tales, It plunged to ruin past all reckoning: And on the heap, his face unfrowned by fear, Calm as a man of marble and as white, Gripping the throttle, lies the engineer Who fell to sleep on his last, frantic flight; While overhead the solemn stars appear And this thin gloaming thickens into night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THERE IS NO NATURAL RELIGION (B) by WILLIAM BLAKE REPORT ON EXPERIENCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO HIS WATCH, WHEN HE COULD NOT SLEEP by EDWARD HERBERT ON A MAGAZINE SONNET by RUSSELL HILLARD LOINES THE MERRY SUMMER MONTHS by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL |