| Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917. | | | | The Switch Yard | | By John Curtis Underwood |
| | | OUT of the glimmer of arc lights and spaces of shade, | |
| Far on the frontier the city has won from the dark, | |
| Rails in the moonlight in ribbons of silver are laid. | |
| Eyes that are watchful the loom of the switch yard shall mark, | |
| Ears that are keen to its music shall hark. | 5 |
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| Red, green, and gold are the signals that mark the design. | |
| Black is the ground where the work of the weaver is spread. | |
| Bright in the night is the glittering length of the line, | |
| Swiftly and strongly and surely the shuttles are sped | |
| Bringing and braiding and breaking the thread. | 10 |
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| Clicking of switches and resonant rolling of wheels | |
| Mix in the midnight with stifled escape of the steam. | |
| Down the long siding a shadowed shape silently steals, | |
| Sudden it checks; and the gride of the brakes is a scream, | |
| The sound of a rent in the stuff of the dream. | 15 |
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| Stars in their courses in switch yards of uttermost space, | |
| Thrills in the ether that galaxies, systems, obey | |
| Meshes immortal of motion and matter to trace; | |
| Feel as they reel and they race down Heaven’s permanent way | |
| Past the tall signal tower holding the void in survey. | 20 | | | |
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