I love you to the echoes of this green station
and always will, as we wait
for our children of the past in the noise
and movement of Paris,
love you like the days and evenings on boulevards of silk
that draw endless sequences of people
like stars to my heart. Lips, hands,
touches of infinite value, I have
loved you in the great cities of Seine
and Thames, loved you and wanted to praise
the numberless good moments of together:
drunk on love and kindness that in us,
who are human, are the lees of a heaven
we know but do not understand.

In the frozen ironwork hung with shadows
the expectancy of departure and arrival,
the great locomotive of life comes
and goes and you and I, hands clasped,
sense the changeless hope that is love.
While around us the luggage-laden travellers
cannot help but feel the same,
Eurostarry-eyed with their own excitements.