The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isn’t a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isn’t a train goes by, Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, But I see its cinders red on the sky, And hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing; Yet there isn’t a train I wouldn’t take, No matter where it’s going. (Source: poem-a-day- Academy of American Poets) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Edna St Vincent Millay was born in 1892 and she died in 1950. Quite Young. I am fascinated by her poems and Edna herself. She's so mysterious. So far, I haven't been able to procure any of her written works yet. This poem appea...
"Some of the sweetest things in life are through greatest struggling battles"