Morning Express

    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

    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.

    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

    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

    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

    Who sped them stand to wave a last farewell.