Classic Poem

Time is gold in the golden land. At the sound of a bell and the lifting of a hand doors are slammed noisily and quickly and the express speeds on through the dark tunnel, faster than a wind and quicker than an eye's glance. Stars upon stars, green and red, fly backward on the walls, green meaning " life " and red meaning " death. " Ahead runs a signal, throwing and pushing everything out of the way. Wheels are thundering in the wild flight — trains are soaring up and down, birds of gold and of blood soar ahead — — — And in my blood flames up a desire, more fervid than blood and much brighter than gold. Oh! How I'd wish to catch such a bird! Ho — ho! — What a splendor! — Yet quick like a lightning it vanishes in the night. Bright like lightning, birds soar and flutter to and fro, bright like lightning one after another — golden birds of the golden land.