A TAXI â€“ DRIVER ON HIS DEATH
When with prophetic eye I peer into the future
I see that I shall perish upon this road
Driving men that I do not know.
This metallic monster that now I dictate,
This docile elaborate horse,
That in silence seems to simmer and stram
Shall surely revolt some tempting day.
Thus is shall die; not that I care
For any manâ€™s journey
Nor for proprietorâ€™s gain,
Nor for love of my own
Not for these do I attempt the forbidden limits,
For these defy the traffic- man and the cold cell,
Risking everything for the little more.
They shall say, I know, who pick up my bones,
Poor chap, another victim tot h ruthless machineâ€�
Concealing my blood under the metal.
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