Way-Station - Poem by Archibald MacLeish
The incoherent rushing of the train
Dulls like a drugged pain
To an ether throbbing of inaudible drums
Hush within hush until the night withholds
Only its darkness.
From the deep
Dark a voice calls like a voice in sleep
Slowly a strange name in a strange tongue.
The sleeping listeners a sound
As leaves stir faintly on the ground
When snow falls from a windless sky—
A stir A sigh
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