I like to see it lap the Miles

Poem by Emily Dickinson

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 it's sides
And crawl between
Complaining all the while
In horrid - hooting stanza - 
Then chase itself down Hill - 

And neigh like Boanerges - 
Then - prompter than a Star
Stop - docile and omnipotent
At it's own stable door -