Iron Horse, 1840

These grassy margins under sky of blue, so peaceful. Then a rumble, sudden blast – can you stand your ground as the train roars through? Here’s Progress. Boston, all across this New England, folks with tickets for transit massed. These grassy margins under sky of blue once buffered cities. Landscape’s subtle hue, a pleasant walk – gone, outmoded, outclassed. Who could stand his ground as the train roars through for Commerce? Stockcars in which ram and ewe are hurtled toward their slaughter house, too fast for grassy margin under sky as blue as berries ripe in August – something true that you could taste, and savor to the last. Can you stand your ground as the train roars through hauling its cargo? Where the wild-rose blew, now coal-smoke smudges what was, but is past. Those grassy margins where the sky was blue couldn’t stand their ground when the train roared through.