The white-arm'd finger posts—-
If we're moving the eighth of an inch, I say,
We're going a mile a minute!
A mile a minute—for life or death—-
Away, away! though it catches one's breath,
The man shall not die in his wrath:
The quivering carriages rock and reel—-
Hurrah! for the rush of the grinding steel!
The thundering crank, and the mighty wheel!—
Are there any more pasengers