| ALONG the wind-swept platform, pinched and white, | |
| The travellers stand in pools of wintry light, | |
| Offering themselves to morn’s long, slanting arrows. | |
| The train’s due; porters trundle laden barrows. | |
| The train steams in, volleying resplendent clouds | 5 |
| Of sun-blown vapour. Hither and about, | |
| Scared people hurry, storming the doors in crowds. | |
| The officials seem to waken with a shout, | |
| Resolved to hoist and plunder; some to the vans | |
| Leap; others rumble the milk in gleaming cans. | 10 |
| Boys, indolent-eyed, from baskets leaning back, | |
| Question each face; a man with a hammer steals | |
| Stooping from coach to coach; with clang and clack | |
| Touches and tests, and listens to the wheels. | |
| Guard sounds a warning whistle, points to the clock | 15 |
| With brandished flag, and on his folded flock | |
| Claps the last door: the monster grunts: ‘Enough!’ | |
| Tightening his load of links with pant and puff. | |
| Under the arch, then forth into blue day, | |
| Glide the processional windows on their way, | 20 |
| And glimpse the stately folk who sit at ease | |
| To view the world like kings taking the seas | |
| in prosperous weather: drifting banners tell | |
| Their progress to the counties; with them goes | |
| The clamour of their journeying; while those | 25 |
| Who sped them stand to wave a last farewell. | |