A monster taught 
To come to hand 
Amain, 
As swift as thought 
Across the land 
The train. 

The song it sings 
Has an iron sound; 
Its iron wings 
Like wheels go round. 

Crash under bridges, 
Flash over ridges, 
And vault the downs; 
The road is straight -- 
Nor stile, nor gate; 
For milestones -- towns! 

Voluminous, vanishing, white, 
The steam plume trails; 
Parallel streaks of light, 
THe polished rails. 

Oh, who can follow? 
The little swallow, 
The trout of the sky: 
But the sun 
Is outrun, 
And Time passed by. 

O'er bosky dens, 
By marsh and mead, 
Forest and fens 
Embodied speed 
Is clanked and hurled; 
O'er rivers and runnels; 
And into the earth 
And out again 
In death and birth 
That know no pain, 
For the whole round world 
Is a warren of railway tunnels. 

Hark! hark! hark! 
It screams and cleaves the dark; 
And the subterranean night 
Is gilt with smoky light. 
Then out again apace 
It runs its thundering race, 
The monster taught 
To come to hand 
Amain, 
That swift as thought 
Speeds through the land 
The train.