The Railway Station

  The darkness brings no quiet here, the light

    No waking: ever on my blinded brain

    The flare of lights, the rush, and cry, and strain,

  The engines' scream, the hiss and thunder smite:

  I see the hurrying crowds, the clasp, the flight,

    Faces that touch, eyes that are dim with pain:

    I see the hoarse wheels turn, and the great train

  Move labouring out into the bourneless night.

  So many souls within its dim recesses,

    So many bright, so many mournful eyes:

  Mine eyes that watch grow fixed with dreams and guesses;

    What threads of life, what hidden histories,

  What sweet or passionate dreams and dark distresses,

    What unknown thoughts, what various agonies!

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