EN ROUTE
C latter! clatter! on they go,
Past stream and gentle valley,
Until the engine wheels turn slow,
And stop at length to dally
For dinner-time full half-an-hour
Within a crowded station
While hungry little mouths devour
The tempting cold collation
Spread in the dining-room at hand;
And then, when that is finished,
The children sally in a band,
With appetites diminished,
To look at all the folk they meet,—
The porters in blue blouses,
The white-robed priests, the nuns so neat,
The farmers and their spouses,
And all the other folk that make
A crowd in France amusing:—
Till hark! their places all must take,
Without a minute losing.
The engine puffs—away they fly,
And soon leave all behind them;
Now turn the page, and you and I
In Paris Safe will find them.
