Ballads of Peace in War

<h2> ON A TRAIN </h2> <p>(For Christine and Tom)<br/></p> <p>Oases are charming 'mid the Afric sands,<br/> Beautiful is summer after rain;<br/> But the sweetest blossoms may be eyes and hands,<br/> And two playful children on a train.<br/> <br/> Aileen and her brother, home from holiday,<br/> Left behind them Narragansett town;<br/> Innocence like music followed all the way,<br/> Summer glowed upon the cheeks of brown.<br/> <br/> She that was their escort read a magazine:<br/> They were young, and trains are dull at night;<br/> All the passing signals, red and blue and green,<br/> Counted up the miles for young delight.<br/> <br/> I was there behind them, earnest in a book:<br/> Lo, the journey turned to fairyland,<br/> When, like magic mirrors, dusty windows took<br/> Aileen's dancing eyes and waving hand!<br/> <br/> That is how it happened on a creeping train,<br/> How a play began without a word,&mdash;<br/> Peekaboo reflections in a window-pane,<br/> Such a story-hour was never heard.<br/> <br/> Aileen and her brother, strangers were to me;<br/> They were friendly for the cloth I wore;<br/> And through leagues of window, youthful play could see<br/> We were friends to be for evermore.<br/> <br/> So we passed the hamlets, passed the miles of night<br/> In a fairyland of silent games,<br/> Till the travel ended in the Worcester light,&mdash;<br/> Yet we parted, strangers in our names.<br/> <br/> But a fortnight later, by an autumn tree,<br/> Aileen and her brother came my way,<br/> And another, glad to tell the names of them and me,<br/> And to hear how travellers can play.<br/> <br/> Life is but a journey, say we evermore,<br/> Passing lights the years have, like a train;<br/> Three good friends will travel up to heaven's door,<br/> With the world a merry window-pane.<br/></p> <p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"></SPAN></p> <br/> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />