FAINTHEART IN A RAILWAY TRAIN

At nine in the morning there passed a church, 

At ten there passed me by the sea, 

At twelve a town of smoke and smirch, 

At two a forest of oak and birch, 

And then, on a platform, she. 

A radiant stranger, who saw not me, 

I said, “Get out to her do I dare?” 

But I kept my seat in my search for a plea, 

And the wheels moved on. O could it but be 

That I had alighted there!

101

-o0o-