Edna St. Vincent Millay contributes:

the railroad track is miles away,
and the day is loud with voices speaking,
yet there isn't a train goes by all day
but i hear its whistle shrieking.

all night there isn't a train goes by,
though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
but i see its cinders red on the sky,
and hear its engine steaming.

my heart is warm with the friends i make,
and better friends i'll not be knowing;
yet there isn't a train i wouldn't take,
no matter where it's going.