The Golden Darkness/On the Train, Homeward

​ON THE TRAIN, HOMEWARD.
Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn,
 When the fog is grey and blue,
And a sharp, wild, desolate wind,
 And an ache that I never knew.

Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn
 Wrapped in silence like a cloak,
And dark, whirling, prophetic trees
 Rising like clouds of smoke.

Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn,
 Racing with the unrisen sun,
Over glimmering rivers of mist,
 When water and sky are one.

Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn,
 When the fog is a ghostly snow,
Past lakes and pools that are green and dim
 Like the marshes of long ago.

Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn,
 While Fantasy is lithe like a hound,
And darkness is bunched into huddled forests,
 And vastness moves on the ground.

Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn,
 And a thought in me that sings:
“Time has woven a strangeness at home
 Over familiar things.”

Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn,
 On, on, to keep my tryst,
To brush away the cobweb strangeness
 As the morning will brush the mist.

Riding in the grey dawn, in the blue dawn,
 When the fog is grey and blue,
And a sharp, wild, desolate wind,
 And an ache that I never knew!

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