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!
Composition date is unknown - the above date represents the first publication date.
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Archibald Lampman
Other author posts
Winter
The long days came and went; the riotous Tore the warm grapes in many a dusty vine, And men grew faint and thin with too much ease, And Winter gave no sign:
Snow
White are the far-off plains, and The fading forests grow; The wind dies out along the height, And denser still the snow,
Outlook
Not to be conquered by these headlong days, But to stand free: to keep the mind at brood On life's deep meaning, nature's altitude Of loveliness, and time's mysterious ways; At every thought and deed to clear the haze Out of our eyes, considering ...
To My Wife
Though fancy and the might of rhyme, That turneth like the tide, Have borne me many a musing time, Beloved, from thy side
