Over and over, still faster and faster,
On through the ice-cold stream of air,
On where the road is frozen and bare.
Roll—Roll—Roll—Roll—
Silent and swift as a death-freed soul.
Glide—Glide—
On the smooth, black tide
Of the ocean of night flowing in from the West,
Over and over, and on without rest,
Swifter and swifter, till over the crest