. Switch lights . ^^ Of things I speak or things I write, I care not what you say,Just so my torch will help to lightSome brother on his way. E. E. S. iWifch-bi^^bfe. With beckoning gleam the Switch Lights burn, Far down the quivering rail,And plainly speak to all that come, From Local to the Mail. If high the moon mid twinkling stars, Or storm clouds darkly lower,These switch lights flash, like sentient things, From eve till morning hour. They clearly shine from dark switch stands To guide the coming train—To signal, ere it crashes by, ^The switch is set for th Main! So many a light is set to
. Switch lights . ^^ Of things I speak or things I write, I care not what you say,Just so my torch will help to lightSome brother on his way. E. E. S. iWifch-bi^^bfe. With beckoning gleam the Switch Lights burn, Far down the quivering rail,And plainly speak to all that come, From Local to the Mail. If high the moon mid twinkling stars, Or storm clouds darkly lower,These switch lights flash, like sentient things, From eve till morning hour. They clearly shine from dark switch stands To guide the coming train—To signal, ere it crashes by, ^The switch is set for th Main! So many a light is set to guide Us fellows on our wayTo that unseen, far terminal, For which we long and pray. And while we speed along Lifes track Should dangers chance to trust the faithful guiding stars, Gods Switch Lights all 10 SWITCH-LIGHTS. ^Into the Clear/^ When on the siding and 4n to clear\ With the switches set for th Main,And the tail-lights turned so they give no fear To the onward rushing train,—With the engines headlight covered tight, And she for a moment asleep,Like a mountain beastAfter royal feast,—And breathing low, in the darkness of night— Then a harvest of stories we reap. We tell of the countries that we have seen, Of the people that we have met,Of many a foreigner, good and green, Who murders our English yet:Of the bi-eakdowns, wrecks, and then of the ghost, And the phantom Ghost Train, too,—And then with a flashAnd a deafening crash,There comes the train that is ever our boast,— And the Night Mail echoes through. SWITCH-LIGHTS. U Our monster awakes,—all grim and black, Her eye opens dazzling bright,And then again duty calls us back To dare the dangerous over the land our way we thread, But we sing a song of then in a HashAnd deafening crash,That frights
Size: 1218px × 2052px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectrailroa, bookyear1902
