The Whistle of a Train
It’s sighted in the distance and comes panting through the rain.
Then the bustle on the station, with kisses freely won,
And those who hide a heartache for those who did not come.
There’s something very thrilling in the whistle of a train;
The distant signal turns to green, and back to red again ;
The throbbing pistons grudgingly take up their precious load,
And then the steely monster is launched upon its road.
There’s something quite conclusive in the whistle of a train,
Something terribly final that throbs into your brain ;
There are those who’ve said their au revoirs, that for a time must sever,
There are many who have said good-bye, perhaps farewell forever.
TOP T., Wagin.