The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with friends I make,
And better friends I not be knowing;
Yet there isn't a train I'd rather take,
No matter where it's going.

Edna St Vincent Millay

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/travel-5/