I like to see it lap the Miles

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 Ribs
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
At its own stable door-