Journey: the North Coast
Next thing, I wake up in a swaying bunk.
as though on board a clipperlying in the sea,
and it’s the train, that booms and cracks,
it tears the wind apart.
Now the man’s gone
who had the bunk below me.
I swing out,cover his bed and rattle up the sash—there’s sunlight rotating
off the drab carpet.
Source: ALL through the party she stood, saying nothing. Talk fluttered around her; quick gay words Like spring-enchanted birds Darted, their wings flashing with the sheen of laughter. She, a tall young ash-tree, stood there among them As though she were alive with a different kind of life, Slower, wiser, the sap rising surely | THE OLD PROVERBIAL RECOVERY