Emily Dickinson - I like to see it lap the Miles (43) lyrics

I like to see it lap the Miles And lick the valleys up And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains And, supercilious, peer In shanties by the sides of roads; And then a quarry pare To fit its sides, and crawl between Complaining all the while In horrid, hooting stanza; Then chase itself down hill And neigh like Boanerges; Then, punctual as a star Stop—docile and omnipotent— At its own stable door.