The Elevated Train

 We wish they’d hurry up and bring the air-ship into play, and not be telling fairy tales about it every day; week after week we’ve looked for it, and looked and looked in vain, and still we’re using, morn and night, the elevated train. We’re packed and jammed and crowded in like sardines in a can, and when we get our journey’s end we scarce resemble man; year in year out we’ve sought release, but we have sought in vain, while they are flying in their minds, we use the same old train. O the sub marine has come and gone, the auto is passé; the wireless is a dream no more, and Mars not far away; but to and fro, from home to town, from town to home again, the airship yet has not upon the elevated train.

May 25, ‘09