Yes, I remember Adlestrop
The name, because one afternoon of rain
The express train broke down unwontedly
It was damn cold.

The wind hissed. Someone slammed a window.
No one left and no one came
On that wet platform. What I saw was
Adlestrop — only the name.

And rain, and thick grey clouds, and drizzle
And gusting litter on the weed-stained track
No whit less lovely then the penalty fare
Or the graffiti round the back.

And, in that moment, a magpie croaked
Close by, and round it, hoarser and soggier,
The only birds in Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.

—with apologies to the spirit of Edward Thomas

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