Way-Station
The incoherent rushing of the train
Dulls like a drugged pain
Numbs
To an ether throbbing of inaudible drums
Unfolds
Hush within hush until the night withholds
Only its darkness.
From the deep
Dark a voice calls like a voice in sleep
Slowly a strange name in a strange tongue.
Among
The sleeping listeners a sound
As leaves stir faintly on the ground
When snow falls from a windless sky—
A stir A sigh
Copyright Credit: Archibald MacLeish, “Way-Station” from Collected Poems 1917-1982. Copyright © 1985 by The Estate of Archibald MacLeish. Reprinted with the permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.
Source: Collected Poems (1952)