The Express - Stephen Spender

 The Express – Stephen Spender (1909-1998)

 

After the first powerful plain manifesto

The black statement of pistons, without more fuss

But gliding like queen, she leaves the station.

Without bowing and with restrained unconcern

She passes the houses which humbly crowd outside,

The gasworks and at last the heavy page

Of death, printed by the gravestones in the cemetery 

Beyond the town there lies the open country

Where, gathering speed, she acquires mystery,

The luminous self–possession of ships on ocean.

It is now she begins to sing–at first quite low

Then loud, and at last with jazzy madness– 

The song of her whistle screaming at curves,

Of deafening tunnels, brakes, innumerable bolts.

And always light, aerial underneath,

 

Goes the elate metre of her wheels.

Streaming through metal landscape on her lines

She plunges new eras of wild happiness

Where speed throws up strange shapes, broad curves,

And always light, aerial underneath,

And parallels clean like the steal of the guns.

At last, farther than Edinburg or Rome,

Beyond the crest of the world, she reaches night

Where only a low streamline brightness

Of phosphorous on the tossing hills is white.

Ah, like a comet through flame, she moves entranced 

Wrapt in her music no bird song, no, nor bough

Breaking with honey buds, shall ever equal.

Lying with your eyes shut, together secretly,

You and she are flung into a darkness beyond the waters of her mouth,

Where no hand can clutch and all identity is lost.

For then there is a great singing in your ears,

And your bodies are dashed together by the storms in your flesh

And generations are leaping in creation through your veins

Through the strong exultation of your heart

And in creation your heat is powerful sun,

Quickening the bud that flower silently

In the secret recesses of her body

And her heart, as a moon, draws into her tide.

And lying with her infinity,

You will begin to dream of all women:

The rectitude of their breasts in their night,

Your fingers tangled in their yellow hair in the darkness,

The scent of their flesh like the calm earth in summer,

And you will know that she is all women that have ever been,

And that like a hunger in yourself

You must continue to feed her body on your own.

 

 

Glossary:

 

the Express:        the express train

manifesto:          a public announcement of ideology

the back statement of pistons: the backward and forward movement of the pistons indicating its starting

like a queen:       train is personified as a queen

lines 13 to 14:     the movement of stumbling train is the realistically described

elate metre:        joyous rhythm

streaming through metal landscape: metallic railway track 

plunges into new eras of wild happiness: the train is compared to a ship on the sea.

crest of the world: the edge of the world

streamline:         a clear line

24 line:              the poet refers to the smoke emitted by the chimney against the yellowish sky of the sunset

wrapt in her music no bird sing: the poet implies that the singing of the bird is merged with the singing if the train. No bird sings.

 

honey buds:         in poet’s eyes the train is the most beautiful thing though it is machine. What nature is to Wordsworth, train is to Stephen Spender

 

The Express – Stephen Spender

 

The poem ‘The Express’ is typical of Spender’s art. It describes the glamour of express train, which the poet feels, is even superior to the beauty of nature. The train is viewed differently as a ship, a singer and a comet. Stephen’s idea is to show us that even simple objects like trains also be unusual and beautiful.

 

The poem starts with the departure from the station. It makes a striking move and grips the attention of onlookers by making a powerful announcement of its starting. The poet is careful to show us that the train leaves the station quietly by using phrases like ‘without more fuss’ and ‘gliding’. The pistons of the engine move forward and backward to accelerate the train. Like Queen, she passes the crowded houses on either side without stopping but with great control and dignity. Finally it passes the burial ground usually located at the outer limit of a town. The poet hints that the train is leaving the town.

 

Once train moved out of the city into the open fields, it looks like ship in the open sea. It gathers speed and passes through the open country like a ship that slides gently on the ocean.

 

To elaborate the idea of its personification the poet uses the ‘song’ to describe her whistle. The music of this song is punctuated by the rattle of the bolts and brakes while passing thorough the plains. She begins to sing at first quite slowly and harshly screaming at curves and making deafening noise at the tunnels. 

 

Though the train is made up of heavy metals yet she is as light as air. Her song has the rhythm that her wheels kept. All trains make a drum-like sound while they move swiftly over the rails. The poet says that the train is singing because it is happy. 

 

When the night falls, all that we see of the train is her smoke. She moves like a comet. Thus the train goes on through the night singing herself. It looks more beautiful than a bird or a tree with sweet flowers. It is lovelier than the bird or the tree laden with flowers. She is so much engrossed in herself moving on swiftly and majestically singing her beautiful song.

 

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