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 its sides, and crawl between
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza
Then chase itself down the hill

And neigh like Boanerges
Then, punctual as a star
Stop - docile and omnipotent
At its own stable door