Travel by Edna St Vincent Milley. 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 I hear its engine steaming. My heart is warm with the 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.