En Route

Clatter! 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.