Poetry Archives

For five and twenty years I’ve run
          A famous train;
But now my spell of speed is done,
          No more I’ll strain
My sight along the treadless tracks,
          The gleamy rails:
My hand upon the throttle slacks,
          My vision fails.

No more I’ll urge my steed of steel
          Through hostile nights;
No more the mastery I’ll feel
          Of monster might.
I’ll miss the hiss of giant steam,
          The clank, the roar;
The agony of brakes that scream
          I’ll hear no more.

Oh I have held within my hand
          A million lives;
And now my son takes command
          And proudly drives;
While from my cottage wistfully
          I watch his train,
And wave and wave and seem to see
          Myself again.