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! 

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