I WAITED for the train unto Versailles. br I hung with bonnes and gamins on the bridge br Watching the gravelled road where, ridge with ridge, br Under black arches gleam the iron rails br Clear in the darkness, till the darkness fails br And they press on to light again—again br To reach the dark. I waited for the train br Unto Versailles; I leaned over the bridge, br And wondered, cold and drowsy, why the knave br Claude is in worship; and why (sense apart) br Rubens preferred a mustard vehicle. br The wind veered short. I turned upon my heel br Saying, “Correggio was a toad”; then gave br Three dizzy yawns, and knew not of the Art.