After a Romantic Day

THE railway bore him throughAn earthen cutting out from a city:There was no scope for view,Though the frail light shed by a slim young moonFell like a friendly tune.

Fell like a liquid ditty,And the blank lack of any charmOf landscape did no harm.The bald steep cutting, rigid, rough,And moon-lit, was enoughFor poetry of place: its weathered faceFormed a convenient sheet whereonThe visions of his mind were drawn.