HERE is an end: hope gone,
Dull hearts fall heavy as the platform stone ; Eyes burn along cold rails ; Ears clank with churn and trolley, hiss with steam ; Thoughts whirl upon themselves in the measureless void Of some not human dream.
In silent ranks uprisen Above this shrieking vault, this vast prison,,
The skeleton girders grope—
To what gaunt traceries, what hollow shells, What homeless roofs, high in a glassy blur What dooms above farewells!
G. ROSTREVOR HAMILTON.