343

Stati d'animo serie II. Quelli che vanno, 1911

Are you sleeping, madame, or only resting,
As the carriage forges its darkening way?
What appointment awaits you we cannot
Divine, whether at this moment a family
Stations itself about the table to receive you,
Or whether yet some engagement of another
Sort—some vagabond in a broad raincoat!—
Waits in a restaurant near your country stop,
Watching the hour in each light before the
Stationhouse, ready to identify your figure
As it should appear momentarily before him.
Rain weaves slowly across the pane of your
Compartment, wavering in ropes of a dull
Light, that sustain boldly, only collapsing as
Further gusts force them down. At each
Coupling, the carriages seem more fluid.
A faint, calming light shivers in the corridor—
Home now? What hour is it? She murmurs
Into the darkness of her collar, rousing quietly,
Motionless. There is a blue lamp at her bedside
Table she would extinguish, and so to sleep.

She opens her eyes to the dim compartment.
Far yet out of all rest, all home. For a moment
Her thoughts part from her in her weariness.