 | Western windows and other poems |  |
85
TAKING THE NIGHT-TRAIN.
A tremulous word, a lingering hand, the burning
Of restless passion smouldering—so we part;
Ah, slowly from the dark the world is turning
When midnight stars shine in a heavy heart.
Of restless passion smouldering—so we part;
Ah, slowly from the dark the world is turning
When midnight stars shine in a heavy heart.
The streets are lighted, and the myriad faces
Move through the gaslight, and the homesick feet
Pass by me, homeless; sweet and close embraces
Charm many a threshold—laughs and kisses sweet.
Move through the gaslight, and the homesick feet
Pass by me, homeless; sweet and close embraces
Charm many a threshold—laughs and kisses sweet.
From great hotels the stranger throng is streaming,
The hurrying wheels in many a street are loud;
Within the depot, in the gaslight gleaming,
A glare of faces, stands the waiting crowd.
The hurrying wheels in many a street are loud;
Within the depot, in the gaslight gleaming,
A glare of faces, stands the waiting crowd.
The whistle screams; the wheels are rumbling slowly,
The path before us glides into the light:
Behind, the city sinks in silence wholly;
The panting engine leaps into the night.
The path before us glides into the light:
Behind, the city sinks in silence wholly;
The panting engine leaps into the night.
86
I seem to see each street a mystery growing,
In mist of dreamland—vague, forgotten air:
Does no sweet soul, awaking, feel me going?
Loves no dear heart, in dreams, to keep me there?
In mist of dreamland—vague, forgotten air:
Does no sweet soul, awaking, feel me going?
Loves no dear heart, in dreams, to keep me there?
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