Walter de la Mare, “The Railway Junction”

From here through tunnelled gloom the track 
Forks into two; and one of these 
Wheels onward into darkening hills, 
And one toward distant seas. 

How still it is; the signal light 
At set of sun shines palely green; 
A thrush sings; other sound there’s none, 
Nor traveller to be seen –

Where late there was a throng. And now, 
In peace awhile, I sit alone; 
Though soon, at the appointed hour, 
I shall myself be gone. 

But not their way; the bow-legged groom, 
The parson in black, the widow and son, 
The sailor with his cage, the gaunt 
Gamekeeper with his gun, 

That fair one, too, discreetly veiled – 
All, who so mutely came, and went, 
Will reach those far nocturnal hills, 
Or shores, ere night is spent. 

I nothing know why thus we met –
Their thoughts, their longings, hopes, their fate: 
And what shall I remember, except –
The evening growing late –

That here through tunnelled gloom the track 
Forks into two; of these 
One into darkening hills leads on, 
And one toward distant seas?

Walter de la Mare, 1873-1956 – “The Railway Junction” from Selected Poems