C LATTER 1 clatter ! on they go, Past stream and gentle valley, Until the engine wheels turn slow, And stop at length to dally
Spread in the dining-room at hand;
And then, when that is finished, The children sally in a band,
With appetites diminished,
For dinner-time full half-an-hour Within a crowded station,
While hungry little mouths devour The tempting cold collation
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.
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,