Three short lines hold two sounds at once. One is the evening train, heard from far off, heavy and steady. The other is a mouse, tiny and close, moving somewhere under the speaker's table. The title, "Freight," hints at the train's load of cargo, but it also lingers over the rest of the poem, as if the small scene carries a weight of its own.
The speaker doesn't react with alarm or irritation. They simply notice, and that quiet attention is the heart of the poem. Sitting at a table as evening comes on suggests a still, solitary moment, and the sounds seem to make that stillness deeper rather than break it. The big, distant noise and the small, nearby one sit side by side, almost as equals.
The mood is calm, a little lonely, and gently curious. Nothing is explained, and the poem lets the reader share the listening. It leaves us with the feeling that even in an ordinary room, the world is moving along at every scale.