Song of a Train

I've had a really busy day, so I'm glad I took this blip when we popped to the pub for lunch. This was taken in The Three Arches pub, which as you might guess is next to the viaduct that carries the trains northwards out of Cardiff. 

This mural caught my eye, and I also liked the verse underneath it. It is from a poem called Song of a Train, by the Scottish poet John Davidson. It's a wonderful poem, so I thought I would post it below. 

Song of a Train 

A monster taught 
To come to hand
Amain,
As swift as thought 
Across the land 
The train.

The song it sings 
Has an iron sound;
It's iron wings 
Like wheels go round. 

Crash under bridges,
Flash over ridges, 
And vault the downs;
The road is straight-
Nor stile, nor gate;
For milestones - towns!

Voluminous, vanishing, white,
The steam plume trails;
Parallel streaks of light,
The polished rails.

Oh, who can follow?
The little swallow,
The trout of the sky:
But the sun
Is outrun,
And Time passed by. 

O'er bosky dens,
By marsh and mead,
Forest and fens
Embodied speed 
Is clanked and hurled;
O'er rivers and runnels;
And into the earth 
And out again 
In death and birth 
That know no pain,
For the whole round world 
Is a warren of railway tunnels. 

Hark! Hark! Hark!
It screams and cleaves the dark;
And the subterranean night 
Is gilt with smoky light.
Then out again apace 
It runs its thundering race,
The monster taught 
To come to hand
Amain,
That swift as thought 
Speeds through the land 
The Train.