No Sir Eppo, be sure ’tis not any of these:
And hark, again!
It comes more plain—
’Tis a woman’s voice in grief or pain.
Like an arrow from the string,
Like a stone that leaves the sling,
Like a railroad-train with a queen inside,
With directors to poke and directors to guide,
Like the rush upon deck when a vessel is sinking,
Like (I vow I’m hard up for a simile) winking!