Onward we speed like a swift-speeding arrow
Winged from a bow!
Cleaving the winding land line long and narrow
'Twixt clouds of snow.
Straight thro' the mountain's heart swiftly we burrow,
Laughing, the hills
Hail as we distance them down the long furrow.
How the race thrills!
Clouds, spent with following fast, give up their chasing;
Worsted the wind—
Baying on heels, panting hard in the racing,
Flash on! As lightnings are hurled above us
So be thy flight!
Swift to the soft clime where loved ones who love us
Wait us to-night!
Give chase to distance! Dear hearts!—to be with them
Is worth the chase!
Never a music to rival in rhythm
Thy muffled bass!
"Nearer and nearer!" Ah, melody-makers,
Match with your arts
Music of speed over sea or land breakers
To home-hungry hearts!
Match, if ye can, the glad sway of its meter.
Your motif, I ween, to the pulse of its fleeter
Rough old trochaic!
Homeward, my famished heart, homeward we're going,
Long since my sad eyes have dimmed with thy flowing,
Glad tears of joy.
Homeward! Their loving arras wait to caress me—
Slack not thy speed—
Bearing me faithful and fast! Oh, I bless thee,
Brave iron steed!