Serene as ever waits the tireless train,
The signals blink their wistful lamps beyond
The misty roof, and surely once again
The wheels to harnessed brain and hand respond.

But now this journey cannot bring joy
That once it always yielded: the delight
Of going home, and I again a boy
Hearing the wheel's song through the sculptured night.

The fallen years can never bring you back;
You were the heart of home, and it was you
Spun that strange magic over lamps and track
Which even memory cannot renew.