The Old Road to Paradise/Whistle-Fantasy

by Margaret Widdemer

BEING YOUNG

WHISTLE-FANTASY

Out in the dark the train passes And the whistle calls to the child, Desolate, piercing, wild, From the track in the meadow-grasses . . ."Far, far away," it screams, "Far, far away,Out in the distance are dreamsDreams you shall follow some dayFar through the endless wild . . .Distance . . . dreams . . ."Backward the faint call streams: Far in the dark the train passes, And the whistle calls to the child.