The Iron Horse is rusting, In the statue-fenced plazas of the nameless towns, Who once crossed the wild prairies, cursing, (Voice of feathers and smoke) In his carbon rages, on his whirling shoes. The mourning dove inherits his ancient voice; But who will awaken the heroic sleeper out of his history -- That iron road to Noplace where he lately arrived In a gunfire of oratory near where the soldiers lie? Alas! Joe Hill, the millionaires have thrown your torch backward into this future! Where now the locomotive is burning among the patriots. Fourth of July. Hot . . . Daddy, what's at the end of the line? Baby, I tell you, the big train don't go there no more. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOW TIDE ON GRAND-PRE by BLISS CARMAN CHAUCERS WORDES UNTO ADAM, HIS OWN SCRIVEYN by GEOFFREY CHAUCER TO ALTHEA, FROM PRISON by RICHARD LOVELACE TWELVE SONNETS: 8 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THREE STEPS by KATHARINE LEE BATES |