On a Subway Express

An Illustrated Poem from the Past

I think it’s clear to my readers that I am a country girl born and bred, uncomfortable with city life and rarely venturing into it. Still, I recognize that we are called to be content where we are, and that the vast majority must while away their days in cities. When I came across this poem in The World’s 1000 Best Poems, then, I very much enjoyed the concept. While I seek the quiet of the wild, the rushing whirl of the terrifying transit reveals the hand of his Maker to this poet. I respect that. When you cannot regain the wonders of nature, remember that man, too, makes wonders with what he is given.

On A Subway Express

I, who have lost the stars, the sod,
For chilling pave and cheerless light,
Have made my meeting-place with God
A new and nether Night—

Have found a fane where thunder fills
Loud caverns, tremulous; and these
Atone me for my reverend hills
And moonlit silences.

A figment in the crowded dark,
Where men sit muted by the roar,
I ride upon the whirring Spark
Beneath the city's floor.

In this dim firmament, the stars
Whirl by in blazing files and tiers;
Kin meteors graze our flying bars,
Amid the spinning spheres.

Speed! speed! until the quivering rails
Flash silver where the head-light gleams,
As when on lakes the Moon impales
The waves upon its beams.

Life throbs about me, yet I stand
Outgazing on majestic Power;
Death rides with me, on either hand,
In my communion hour.

You that 'neath country skies can pray,
Scoff not at me, the city clod:
My only respite of the Day
Is this wild ride—with God.

—Chester Firkins