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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=429766" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Night Ride</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=429766" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down;<br>Milk-tins in cold dented silver; half-awake I stare,<br>Pull up the blind, blink out - all sounds are drugged;<br>the slow blowing of passengers asleep;<br>engines yawning; water in heavy drips;<br>Black, sinister travellers, lumbering up the station,<br>one moment in the window, hooked over bags;<br>hurrying, unknown faces - boxes with strange labels - <br>all groping clumsily to mysterious ends,<br>out of the gaslight, dragged by private Fates,<br>their echoes die. The dark train shakes and plunges;<br>bells cry out, the night-ride starts again.<br>Soon I shall look out into nothing but blackness,<br>pale, windy fields, the old roar and knock of the rails<br>melts in dull fury. Pull down the blind. Sleep. Sleep<br>Nothing but grey, rushing rivers of bush outside.<br>Gaslight and milk-cans. Of Rapptown I recall nothing else.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Kenneth+Slessor">Kenneth Slessor</a></strong></div>

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