Where They Took Train

Gomorrah paid so for its holiday;

The east wind bit the ears and snapped the skin,

Snow-pellets made the meadow-ridges gray,

The sky was like a punishment for sin.

Then the old cage-like bus, from this old inn,

Gathered you birds of beauty as its prey,

And like a morgue the station took you in,

And like a hearse the train bore you away.

Bore you away, to sad and happy Fate;

All up and down the world your feet have gone,

Some, to much glory, not yet all fulfilled.

Now, in that dingy station as I wait,

I think, “Among these stones their beauty shone,”

Then I forget the present and am thrilled.

John Masefield