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St. Nicholas—1901

THE NIGHT EXPRESS.
BY WILLIAM HURD HILLYER.

 

THERE's a light at last in the sable mist, and it hangs like a rising star

On the border-line 'twixt earth and sky, where the rails run straight and far;

And deeply sounds from hill to hill, in mighty monotone,

A distant voice—a hoarse, wild note with savage warning blown.

'Tis the night express, and well 't is named, for behold! from out the night

It comes and darkly adown the rails it looms to the startled sight—

Larger, nearer, nearer yet—till at last there's a clang and roar,

A wave of heat, and a gleam of red from a closing furnace door;

Then the crash and shriek of the rushing train—and our hearts beat fast and high

When sudden and swift through the shadowy mist the night express goes by!

 


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