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The Flag, and Other Poems, 1918

IN A TRAIN.

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A lonesome landscape, brown and grey, And chilled with flakes of smutchy snow, So grimly dull that every ray Of setting sun forgets its glow; But in the train I sit with one. Who clears my thoughts of wintry gloom; She laughs!—and now a midday sun Is coaxing summer flowers to bloom!

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