The Railroad United Poem by Charles Bernabi

Cruelest night, o'er treacherous traverse,
Forethought in advance its latent worse.
When they come with rugged fingers stretched,
Let their bold story be told and sketched.

But where increase of despair may voice,
And bring bloom immensely to rejoice;
The latter wilt hence foretell what yields,
For gentle temptations in their fields!

The stoniest hearts, sweeping thro' bent,
Last September they started content.
Now tho' fearing the cold that shalt trace,
Yet yesterday they wept just for grace.

Whose condemned are they that troubles all,
Made of rage, the railroad men of thrall.
They built the lines, measured in blood tears,
Where then was laid telephone frontiers.

In an old photograph was seen close,
The black and white in their stone faced pose.
It could be known from the image much,
With three down front bearing signs of smudge.

And promptly were they after a round,
Men most fatigued, snapping rocks abound.
Wherefore they sort sap in floras skin,
These hapless creeds wilt follow therein.

With blistered fingers they'd shovel on,
Standing tall the blackened men had brawn.
It was a sight quite daunting to thumb,
With some stubborn lip-readers in slum.