““An Evening Air I go out in the grey evening In the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation. I go out into the hard loneliness of the barren field of grey evening In the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation. In the gathering darkness a long, swift train suddenly Passes me like a lighting. Hard and ponderous and loud are the wheels. As ponderous as the darkness, and as beautiful. I look on, enchanted, and listen to the sounds of lamentation In the soft fragrant air. The long rails, grey-dark, smooth as a serpent, shiver, and A soft, low thing cries out in the distance, But the sounds are hard and heavy, In the air the odor of flowers and the sounds of lamentation.””
