from an album

Our earth is a vast highway where pace
We men along it as voyagers.
On horseback and foot we hurry and race
Upon it as courriers or runners.

We pass each other, we signal, we greet,
From the coach, we wave our handkerchief;
We wish to kiss and embrace as we meet,
But the horses speed, much to our grief!

Dear Prince Alexander, as onward we go,
Scarcely have we met at a station,
Already the postillon his horn does blow,
Sadly causing our separation.