Vacheron Constantin Overseas

Poem: Travel by Edna St. Vincent Millay. The railroad track is miles away, And the day is loud with voices speaking, Yet there isnt a train goes by all day But I hear its whistle shrieking. All night there isnt 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 Ill not be knowing; Yet there isnt a train I wouldnt take, No matter where its going.