The Train by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
A green eye-and a red-in the dark.
Thunder-smoke-and a spark.
It is there-it is here-flashed by.
Whither will the wild thing fly?
It is rushing, tearing thro’ the night,
Rending her gloom in its flight/
It shatters her silence with shrieks,
Where is it the wild thing seeks?
Alas! For it hurries away
Them that are fain to stay.
Hurrah! For it carries home
Lovers and friends that roam.
Where are you, Time and Space?
The world is a little place.
Your reign is over and done,
You are one.