FAINTHEART IN A RAILWAY TRAIN

At nine in the morning there passed a church, At ten there passed me by the sea, At twelve a town of smoke and smirch, At two a forest of oak and birch, And then, on a platform, she:

A radiant stranger, who saw not me. I queried, “Get out to her do I dare?” But I kept my seat in my search for a plea, And the wheels moved on. O could it but be That I had alighted there!