And started the jets for the sand to run
On the glassy rails where the drivers spun,
Till, biting the steel with a spurt of fire
Sputtering back from each grinding tire,
The monster conquered its straining load
And, gathering speed on the curveless road,
It rolled from the town and left it whole.
Like death torn loose from a stricken soul.
But looking backward with stern-set face,
Throttle gripped in a firm embrace,