[Editor: This poem by Agnes L. Storrie was published in Poems, 1909.]
In a Railway Carriage.
The hills dance in a circle,
The wide plain swiftly turns,
Fences flit by, the wheeling sky
A new rotation learns.
Dim roadways, dust-enshrouded,
Like pallid ribands run,
And in and out a cloudy rout
Pirouettes the sun.
The wires, with elfin swiftness,
Now soar, now sink, now soar,
Till sight with dizzy faintness
Can follow them no more.
Far hills are now behind us,
And streams and bridges fade,
Distance is distanced, and my heart
Is harassed and afraid,
For, through the clang and clamour
Of sounds that sink and swell,
One word is beating on my brain —
Farewell ! farewell ! farewell !
And every wheel revolving
Crushes my peace of mind,
And every league we traverse
Leaves happiness behind.
No goal can compensate me,
While, like a fatal knell,
Those iron voices harshly cry —
Farewell ! farewell ! farewell !
Source:
Agnes L. Storrie. Poems, J. W. Kettlewell, Sydney, 1909, pages 69-70
Editor’s notes:
riband = a ribbon, especially one used for decoration
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