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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 1, Issue 4 (August 24, 1926)

“The Engine” — “On fire-horses and wind-horses we career.”

page 23

“The Engine”
“On fire-horses and wind-horses we career.”

“On fire-horses and wind-horses we career.”

Hurrah! for the mighty engine,
As he bounds along his track
Hurrah, for the life that is in him,
And his breath so thick and black.
And hurrah for our fellows, who in their need
Could fashion a thing like him—
With a heart of fire, and a soul of steel,
And a Samson in every limb.

But I trust in his strength, and he trusts in me,
Though made but of brittle clay,
While he is bound up in the toughest of steel,
That tires not night or day;
But for ever flashes, and stretches, and strives,
While he shrieks in his smoky glee—
Hurrah for the puppets that, lost in their thoughts,
Could rub the lamp for me!

O that some Roman—when Rome was great—
Some quick, light Greek or two—
Could come from their graves for one half-hour
To see what my fellows can do;
I would take them with me on this world's wild steed,
And give him a little rein;
Then rush with his clanking hoofs through space,
With a wreath of smoke for his mane.

I would say to them as they shook in their fear,
“Now what is your paltry book,
Or the Phidian touch of the chisel's point,
That can make the marble look,

New Zealand Railways 4–6–4 Locomotive, Ws. Type. Used on Suburban runs Weight in working trim, 71 tons 10 cwt. Tractive force at 80% of boiler pressure, 22,000lbs. Tank capacity, 1,700 gals. Fuel space, 120 cub. feet. Length over buffers, 44ft. 5ins. Coupled Wheels, 4ft. 6in. diameter.

New Zealand Railways 4–6–4 Locomotive, Ws. Type. Used on Suburban runs Weight in working trim, 71 tons 10 cwt. Tractive force at 80% of boiler pressure, 22,000lbs. Tank capacity, 1,700 gals. Fuel space, 120 cub. feet. Length over buffers, 44ft. 5ins. Coupled Wheels, 4ft. 6in. diameter.

To this monster of ours, that for ages lay
In the depths of the dreaming earth,
Till we brought him out with a cheer and a shout,
And hammer'd him into birth?”

Then away he rush'd to his mission of toil,
Wherever lay guiding rods,
And the work he could do at each throb of his pulse
Flung a blush on the face of the gods.
And Atlas himself, when he felt his weight,
Bent lower his quaking limb,
Then shook himself free from this earth, and left
The grand old planet to him.

But well can he bear it, this Titan of toil,
When his pathway yields to his tread;
And the vigour within him flares up to its height,
Till the smoke of his breath grows red;
Then he shrieks in delight, as an athlete might,
When he reaches his wild desire,
And from head to heel, thro' each muscle of steel,
Runs the cunning and clasp of the fire.

Then hurrah for our mighty engine, boys;
He may roar and fume along
For a hundred years ere a poet arise
To shrine him in worthy song;
Yet if one with the touch of the gods on his lips,
And his heart beating wildly and quick,
Should rush into song at this demon of ours,
Let him sing, too, the shovel and pick.