I like to see it lap the Miles
And lick the valleys up
And stop to feed itself at tanks;
And then, prodigious, step
Around a pile of mountains
And, supercilious, peer
In shanties by the sides of roads;
And then a quarry pare
To fit its sides, and crawl between
Complaining all the while
In horrid, hooting stanza;
Then chase itself down hill
And neigh like Boanerges;
Then, punctual as a star
Stop—docile and omnipotent—
This wry description using the reflexive suggests the train has a life and will of its own. The speaker clearly doesn’t admire this new invention.
I like to see it lap the Miles 43