The steely train in the stupid green
Of sleepy, sleepy summer tore
An even rent in the placid clean
Cloth of the air with an onward roar.

Above the sharp diagonal,—the two
Lines either side the rended cleft—
The air closed in, the green stuff grew
Almost together—until the train tore left.

I saw this happen daily and watched both:
Saw the air mend, and the round earth pinch the crack—
After the train sprung them open with an oath,
A massive pressure. Until the train came back:

Dark spot of these rails—lines laid merely for speed—
Dark clot of speed on pure line, to assert:
Idea the line; the dark acceleration, the deed,
Passing along the line to kill the inert.