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Slanting Lines
The railway line passes near.
After the engine’s noisy roar,
coaches follow along the track:
the bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.
At night, the glow and flying sparks.
Grass on the lineside banks is marked
with smears of fires, burnt and black.
The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.
On holiday by train! Vast hall
of city station, noisy, full
of people rushing there and back.
The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.
First we go to the front to see
the engine, wheels bigger than me—
a great big monster, steaming, black.
The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.
Telephone wires through the pane
loop lazily along and then
greet each pole like a jumping jack.
The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.
Raindrops slanting across the glass.
We jump at a sudden sound-blast—
another train on the next track.
The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.
Country station: we clamber down.
The whistle blows, the train moves on,
the guard’s van trundles at the back.
The bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.