Along the wind-swept platform, pinched and white, <br />The travellers stand in pools of wintry light, <br />Offering themselves to morn’s long, slanting arrows. <br />The train’s due; porters trundle laden barrows. <br />The train steams in, volleying resplendent clouds <br />Of sun-blown vapour. Hither and about, <br />Scared people hurry, storming the doors in crowds. <br />The officials seem to waken with a shout, <br />Resolved to hoist and plunder; some to the vans <br />Leap; others rumble the milk in gleaming cans. <br />Boys, indolent-eyed, from baskets leaning back, <br />Question each face; a man with a hammer steals <br />Stooping from coach to coach; with clang and clack <br />Touches and tests, and listens to the wheels. <br />Guard sounds a warning whistle, points to the clock <br />With brandished flag, and on his folded flock <br />Claps the last door: the monster grunts: ‘Enough!’ <br />Tightening his load of links with pant and puff. <br />Under the arch, then forth into blue day, <br />Glide the processional windows on their way, <br />And glimpse the stately folk who sit at ease <br />To view the world like kings taking the seas <br />in prosperous weather: drifting banners tell <br />Their progress to the counties; with them goes <br />The clamour of their journeying; while those <br />Who sped them stand to wave a last farewell.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-express/
