"What are you staring at, mariner man
Wrinkled as sea-sand and old as the sea?"
"Those trains will run over their tails,
if they can,
Snorting and sporting like porpoises. Flee
The burly, the whirligig wheels of the train.
As round as the world
and as large again,
Running half the way
over to Babylon, down
Through fields of clover
to gay Troy town-
A-puffing their smoke
as grey as the curl
On my forehead as wrinkled as
sands of the sea!-
But what can that matter
to you, my girl?
(And what can that matter to me?)"