The Station clock proclaims the close of day;
The hard-worked clerks drop gladly off to tea;
The last train out starts on its dangerous way,
And leaves the place to darkness and to me.
Now fades the panting engine’s red tail-light,
And all the platform solemn stillness holds,
Save where the watchmen, pacing for the night,
By smothered coughs announce their several colds.
Behind that door of three-inch planking made,
Those frosted panes placed too high up to peep,