I like to see it lap the miles:

I like to see it lap the miles,   
And lick the valleys up,   
And stop to feed itself at tanks;   
And then, prodigious, step   

 
Around a pile of mountains,                          5
And, supercilious, peer   
In shanties by the sides of roads;   
And then a quarry pare   
 
To fit its sides, and crawl between,   
Complaining all the while                               10
In horrid, hooting stanza;   
Then chase itself down hill   
 
And neigh like Boanerges;   
Then, punctual as a star,   
Stop—docile and omnipotent—                     15
At its own stable door.