Archibald Lampman

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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