Taylor Graham Poet Villanelle

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.

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Robert A. Dufresne January 16, 2012 at 1:04 PM well after reminiscing about what the old trains used to be called this morning as I heard one go past I think the Indians named them the Iron horse... well after actually thinking about that and seeing your poem .just had to read it! Same wave length today Taylor. Well written