Cornwall 1959

Looking down the half-forgotten years

To see again the days of long ago,

Whose sunlight now seems dimmed and golden

With the warmth of conjured memory,

I feel the tears well deep inside

For days which are no more -

Can never be again.

Vistas of the past return

Ever more frequently now,

As if my time for looking back is short;

The commonplace then, intangibly enchanted now.

As if I look with envy

On someone else’s experience.

Almost fifty years ago

Stood a small steam-train,

Quiet and waiting in a country station,

Where the gas-lamps burned dim

In the mist of early evening,

And all about the sound of rushing streams

Mingled gently with the hiss of steam.

There the bags were stowed unwatched

In the comfortable compartment,

While the travellers took tea

And journey’s end was near.

Slowly through the hushed and foggy evening

Wound the train along the river,

Sometimes stopping at a station,

No more than just a hut or two

Against the gently darkening fields,

And here and there a passenger

Would join or leave,

But everywhere the sounds of open country,

And the air – oh, the air -

So sweet and vibrant,

Damp with mist,

And filled with promise and excitement.

Finally, in full darkness,

The travellers left the train,

Standing on the empty platform

‘Neath the feeble glow of gas-lamps,

As they watched the red light dwindle

Round the bend and out of sight.

Could we but recapture for a moment

Those scents and sounds,

That first arrival when all was new -

How exquisite to know it all again!

But, alas, how impossible!

Now there is no steam-train any more,

Now the branch-line, closed forever,

Runs its course along the river

But its tracks are choked with weeds,

Its memory with tears;

The stations all forlorn and empty stand,

Platforms crack and crumble with decay;

Never again will the farmer set his watch

To the puffing of the evening train;

The names will never sound again

Across the silent twilight clear -

Otterham, Egloskerry, and Tresmeer.