Travel, by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I love how this poem captures the wanderlust that calls inexplicably and powerfully to many souls. St. Vincent Millay also evokes the visual beauty of steam engines, a love that I know I inherited from my father.

"Travel"
By Edna St. Vincent Millay

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.