[1281] Night Mail

Guest poem sent in by Bob Swallow <bob.swallow@>

This is the Night Mail crossing the border,
Bringing the cheque and the postal order,
Letters for the rich, letters for the poor,
The shop at the corner and the girl next door.
Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb:
The gradient's against her, but she's on time.
Past cotton-grass and moorland boulder
Shovelling white steam over her shoulder,
Snorting noisily as she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses.

Birds turn their heads as she approaches,
Stare from the bushes at her blank-faced coaches.
Sheep-dogs cannot turn her course;
They slumber on with paws across.
In the farm she passes no one wakes,
But a jug in the bedroom gently shakes.

Dawn freshens, the climb is done.
Down towards Glasgow she descends
Towards the steam tugs yelping down the glade of cranes,
Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen.
All Scotland waits for her:
In the dark glens, beside the pale-green sea lochs
Men long for news.

Letters of thanks, letters from banks,
Letters of joy from the girl and the boy,
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or visit relations,
And applications for situations
And timid lovers' declarations
And gossip, gossip from all the nations,
News circumstantial, news financial,
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in,
Letters with faces scrawled in the margin,
Letters from uncles, cousins, and aunts,
Letters to Scotland from the South of France,
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Notes from overseas to Hebrides
Written on paper of every hue,
The pink, the violet, the white and the blue,
The chatty, the catty, the boring, adoring,
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring,
Clever, stupid, short and long,
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong.

Thousands are still asleep
Dreaming of terrifying monsters,
Or of friendly tea beside the band at Cranston's or Crawford's:
Asleep in working Glasgow, asleep in well-set Edinburgh,
Asleep in granite Aberdeen,
They continue their dreams,
And shall wake soon and long for letters,
And none will hear the postman's knock
Without a quickening of the heart,
For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

 	-- W. H. Auden

When I need the text of a poem or indeed to check any poetic reference
I generally turn first to "Wondering Minstrels".

The other day I needed a copy of "From a Railway Carriage" by R. L.
Stevenson.  It was for a music lesson where strong rhythms were being
illustrated under the theme of trains. And that poem of course was the
obvious choice.

Naturally I found it on this wonderful site but was rather surprised to find
that another 'railway' poem Was not in your list. This poem "Night Mail" was
written by W. H. Auden for a film advertisement for "British Rail".

The rhythms and rhymes are wonderfully evocative of the railways in the
steam age and bring back to me memories Of railway journeys on which my
sisters and I  worked out phrases to fit the rhythms we could hear as the
wheels clicked over the joins.

I offer this for the collection partly because it has so many memories for
me and partly to ensure that it is Available when I next need to use it.

Bob

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[this poem is archived, accessible and awaiting your comments at]
http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/1281.html
To subscribe, send a blank mail to <minstrels-subscribe@>.

From: Sarah Bennett <samt@>

I remember hearing this peom as a child, and the rhythm of it stays with
me still. As a footnote, a couple of weeks ago the Royal Mail here in
the UK announced that they were going to stop sending any letters by
train - so it looks like it's the end of the Night Mail.

From: "A MARTIN" <TONY@>

Hi, Great to see this poem amongst your collection.  It dates back a bit
before the days of British Rail, which lasted from 1948-1994, being made in
the 1930s. The film was one of the documentaries popular then and made on
behalf of the Post Office. Auden was asked at the last moment to write a
poem, as up to then there was noting in the film about what the letters the
train was carrying were about or how they might affect people's lives.   In
those days we were still,justifiably, proud of our railways in Britain, and
they were not the sad joke they  have become in recent years. And now even
the Travelling Post Office is doomed!!!

Tony Martin

TPO 1837-2003     RIP

From: BThomasburton@

It was very nostalgic to come across this poem by W H Auden. I remember the 
British Rail film which brought back memories of my days as a LMS signalman.
Thank you
Tom Burton

From: "Steve Kane" <stevekane@>

I looked this up tonight as I have been longing to see (and hear) again the
Post Office Public Information film that the poem accompanied, but so far
without luck, as someone else has said, once heard the rhyme of the poem
remains with you for life! lets hope the TV shows it again soon esp as the
service it extols is being axed,

From: "Mike Grinter" <mgne14515@>

Anyone know where you can get the film on video or dvd or even just the
audio?

From: Chris Bolton <cbolton@>

Mike,

I saw your comments on the page
www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/1281.html for the poem Night
Train by W.H.Auden asking for an audio of the poem.  I was wondering if
you ever tracked down a copy?

Cheers,

Chris.
cbolton@

From: "t112jch.freeserve.co.uk" <graeme@>

Saw the video at National Raiway Museum in York.
Was not available for publice purchase though.

From: "Denise Burton" <oldbrambles@>

The Night Mail poem really invokes the sound's of a steam engine's sound
so powerfully in your head that you smell that train too. Magic!
Denise Burton