Then I stood on the front of the engine--
How I got there I never could tell--
My feet planted down on the crossbar,
Where the cow-catcher slopes to the rail,--
One hand firmly locked on the coupler,
And one held out in the night,
While my eye gauged the distance, and measured
The speed of our slackening flight.
My mind, thank the Lord! it was steady;
I saw the curls of her hair,
And the face that, turning in wonder,
Was lit by the deadly glare.
I know little more, but I heard it--
The groan of the anguished wheels--
And remember thinking, the engine
In agony trembles and reels.
One rod! To the day of my dying
I shall think the old engine reared back,
And as it recoiled, with a shudder,
I swept my hand over the track;
Then darkness fell over my eyelids,
But I heard the surge of the train,
And the poor old engine creaking,
As racked by a deadly pain.
They found us, they said, on the gravel,
My fingers enmeshed in her hair,
And she on my bosom a climbing,
To nestle securely there.
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