| March/April 1963

This poem was written by Mr. J. E. Yeager of Whitefish, Mont. It was written but a short time before he passed away very suddenly. He was an engineer on the Great Northern. It was sent to us by Alfred Patterson, Spokane 28, Washington.

No more will I pull the throttle,
No more will I set the air,
No more will I pull the whistle cord
And listen to the blare.

Never again will I brace myself
As I feel the engine's swerve.
Never again will I hold her up
As she rocks around a curve.

The little kids that waved at me
And the towns that thundered past
Are lost to me, for Father Time
Has taken his toll at last.

Those long dark nights,
Those eerie dawns
The smokestacks roaring blast,
Those peaceful farms that drifted by
Are a part of my life that's past.

When looking back in retrospect
There'll come to me the thrills
That I felt when she thundered
through some sag
Or labored up the hills.