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Train Poems

Table of Contents

  1. The Railway Train by Anonymous
  2. The Train Among the Hills by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
  3. The Railway Train by Emily Dickinson
  4. The House Where We Were Wed by Will Carleton
  5. The Rail Road by Jones Very
  6. At the Railway Station by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
  7. Homeward, Ho! by Ada A. Mosher
  8. Trains in the Grass by Annette Wynne
  9. Song of the Railroad Train by Mrs. John Loye
  10. The Iron Horse by Lewis Lamar
  11. In the Caboose by Ellen P. Allerton

  1. The Railway Train

    by Anonymous. Motions: In the chorus the children imitate the action of ringing a bell and clap their hands at puff, puff, puff. Suitable actions should accompany each verse and be performed by every child at the sama moment.

    The railway train is starting off,
    The engine gives a hasty puff,
    The bell is rung, the whistle blows,
    The agent says “Right!” and off it goes.

    Chorus—Ring, a-ding! a-ding! a-ding!
    Puff! puff! puff!

    Over the bridge, it shoots away,
    Through the tunnel, dark all day,
    Through the cutting or the plain,
    Till it comes to the depot again!

    The agent calls out Boston train,
    Take your seats we’re off again;
    Now, be quick with the baggage there,
    The signal shows the line is clear,
    Time and train for no men wait,
    Off, off, ’tis getting late.

  2. The Train Among the Hills

    by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

    Vast, unrevealed, in silence and the night
    Brooding, the ancient hills commune with sleep.
    Inviolate the solemn valleys keep
    Their contemplation. Soon from height to height
    Steals a red finger of mysterious light,

    And lion-footed through the forests creep
    Strange mutterings; till suddenly, with sweep
    And shattering thunder of resistless flight
    And crash of routed echoes, roars to view,
    Down the long mountain gorge the Night Express
    Freighted with fears and tears and happiness.
    The dread form passes; silence falls anew.
    And lo! I have beheld the thronged, blind world
    To goals unseen from God's hand onward hurled.

  3. The Railway Train

    by Emily Dickinson

    I like to see it lap the miles,
    And lick the valleys up,
    And stop to feed itself at tanks;
    And then, prodigious, step

    Around a pile of mountains,
    And, supercilious, peer
    In shanties by the sides of roads;
    And then a quarry pare

    To fit its sides, and crawl between,
    Complaining all the while
    In horrid, hooting stanza;
    Then chase itself down hill

    And neigh like Boanerges;
    Then, punctual as a star,
    Stop — docile and omnipotent —
    At its own stable door.

  4. Up the Line

    by Will Carleton

    Through blinding storm and clouds of night,
    We swiftly pushed our restless flight;
    With thundering hoof and warning neigh,
    We urged our steed upon his way
    Up the line.

    Afar the lofty head-light gleamed;
    Afar the whistle shrieked and screamed;
    And glistening bright, and rising high,
    Our flakes of fire bestrewed the sky,
    Up the line.

    Adown the long, complaining track,
    Our wheels a message hurried back;
    And quivering through the rails ahead,
    Went news of our resistless tread,
    Up the line.

    The trees gave back our din and shout,
    And flung their shadow arms about;
    And shivering in their coats of gray,
    They heard us roaring far away,
    Up the line.

    The wailing storm came on apace,
    And dashed its tears into our fade;
    But steadily still we pierced it through,
    And cut the sweeping wind in two,
    Up the line.

    A rattling rush across the ridge,
    A thunder-peal beneath the bridge;
    And valley and hill and sober plain
    Re-echoed our triumphant strain,
    Up the line.

    And when the Eastern streaks of gray
    Bespoke the dawn of coming day,
    We halted our steed, his journey o'er,
    And urged his giant form no more,
    Up the line.

  5. The Rail Road

    by Jones Very

    Thou great proclaimer to the outward eye
    Of what the spirit too would seek to tell,
    Onward thou go'st, appointed from on high
    The other warnings of the Lord to swell;
    Thou art the voice of one that through the world
    Proclaims in startling tones, "Prepare the way;"
    The lofty mountain from its seat is hurled,
    The flinty rocks thine onward march obey;

    The valleys lifted from their lowly bed
    O'ertop the hills that on them frowned before,
    Thou passest where the living seldom tread,
    Through forests dark, where tides beneath thee roar,
    And bid'st man's dwelling from thy track remove,
    And would with warning voice his crooked paths reprove.

  6. At the Railway Station

    by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

    Here the night is fierce with light,
    Here the great wheels come and go,
    Here are partings, waitings, meetings,
    Mysteries of joy and woe.

    Here is endless haste and change,
    Here the ache of streaming eyes,
    Radiance of expectant faces,
    Breathless askings, brief replies.

    Here the jarred, tumultuous air
    Throbs and pauses like a bell.
    Gladdens with delight of greeting.
    Sighs and sorrows with farewell.

    Here, ah, here with hungry eyes
    I explore the passing throng.
    Restless I await your coming
    Whose least absence is so long.

    Faces, faces pass me by,
    Meaningless, and blank, and dumb,
    Till my heart grows faint and sickens
    Lest at last you should not come.

    Then—I see you. And the blood
    Surges back to heart and brain.
    Eyes meet mine,—and Heaven opens.
    You are at my side again.

  7. Homeward, Ho!

    by Ada A. Mosher

    Onward we speed like a swift-speeding arrow
    Winged from a bow!
    Cleaving the winding land line long and narrow
    'Twixt clouds of snow.

    Straight thro' the mountain's heart swiftly we burrow,
    Laughing, the hills
    Hail as we distance them down the long furrow.
    How the race thrills!

    Clouds, spent with following fast, give up their chasing;
    Worsted the wind—
    Baying on heels, panting hard in the racing,
    Now—left behind!

    Flash on! As lightnings are hurled above us
    So be thy flight!
    Swift to the soft clime where loved ones who love us
    Wait us to-night!

    Give chase to distance! Dear hearts!—to be with them
    Is worth the chase!
    Never a music to rival in rhythm
    Thy muffled bass!

    "Nearer and nearer!" Ah, melody-makers,
    Match with your arts
    Music of speed over sea or land breakers
    To home-hungry hearts!

    Match, if ye can, the glad sway of its meter.
    Sadly prosaic
    Your motif, I ween, to the pulse of its fleeter
    Rough old trochaic!

    Homeward, my famished heart, homeward we're going,
    Long since my sad eyes have dimmed with thy flowing,
    Glad tears of joy.

    Homeward! Their loving arras wait to caress me—
    Slack not thy speed—
    Bearing me faithful and fast! Oh, I bless thee,
    Brave iron steed!

  8. Trains in the Grass

    by Annette Wynne

    It's fun to watch the trains go by
    Across the world as in the grass you lie
    So carelessly, and think far thoughts of cities gray,
    And watch the smoke curls die away
    Across the brook or in the trees;
    It's fun to lie quite at your ease
    And dream that you are riding far
    Inside the hurrying, clanging car.

    How fast the train goes everywhere,
    It seems to fly straight through the air,
    And never touch the ground at all;
    You see small boys—you try to call
    To them as in the grass they lie;
    So fast you fly
    Before they answer you are by;
    But there's another boy not far;
    You call out from your flying car
    To him, and yet he never hears;
    Just then a great big bridge appears
    And you forget him, and look out
    At all the moving things about;
    You wonder if the people, too,
    Look in, and wonder who are you,
    And where you come from, is it far,
    What kind of folks your people are.

    All at once a bee goes by,
    A May bug, then a butterfly,
    A poppy shakes a dusty head
    And you are in the grass instead;
    And then you know that, after all,
    You are the boy you tried to call,
    You are the boy the people pass
    Inside the train, that looking through the glass
    They see outstretched in meadow grass;
    And there you lie the summer day,
    And see the smoke curls die away.

  9. Song of the Railroad Train

    by Mrs. John Loye

    How grand by night o'er the country side
    Is that wild melodious strain;
    And music blown at the eventide,
    Is the song of the railroad train.
    Its torn strains to our fireside trill
    In the throes of the blizzard blown;
    Or soar on high in the tempest rain,
    So shrill, the song of the railroad train,
    Oe'r the thunder's loud detone.

    Whose lonely cry can the herdsman hear
    In the still 'neath the starry sky,
    As it fades away o'er the prairie drear,
    And the coyote's weird reply.
    The Sioux bent with a startled ear
    When first in the wilds it cried,
    And echoed over the virgin plain,
    So strange, the song of the railroad train,
    And far in the foothills died.

    I've heard that song in the midnight far,
    From the spans of Victoria sound,
    With the rumble of the tubular,
    And the freight to the seaboard bound.
    I've heard it rise from the Vermont hills
    And float in the sunset o'er
    The placid waters of Lake Champlain,
    So plaint, the song of the railroad train,
    And down by the wooded shore.

    We listened once in the twilight shade
    To the trains on the Erie far,
    As they passed with many a blue brigade
    To the fields of the Civil war.
    The whistle blows in the gloaming still
    From the bridge in the Portage glen,
    Like Lincoln's call to the North again,

    You hear the song of the railroad train That passed with the Union men.

  10. The Iron Horse

    by Lewis Lamar

    The iron horse is coming sure,
    Our plodding days will soon be o'er:
    The engineer has gone before,
    To mark the way and make it sure,
    Chorus: The iron horse is coming sure,
    Our plodding days will soon be o'er.

    With hoofs of steel, and iron-bound,
    He's coming sure to Middletown;
    There's work around for evermore
    And feed enough for him in store.

    If business fly, or pleasure hie,
    Alike his best endeavors try;
    If pressed with heavy loads, or light,
    He moves along in brave delight.

    To better markets swiftly bear
    Our noble products, rich and fair;
    Along the track he'll bring us back,
    The many precious things we lack.

    Now "Van" may "Winkle" in his bed
    And dormant lie, appearing dead;
    The fogy croak and shake his head,
    And tell us what grand-daddy said.

    The days of steam are drawing nigh,
    Our trudging days are passing by,
    The iron horse is coming through,
    His freighted train will soon be due.

    The iron horse is all the talk;
    We should not cease or make a balk,
    But help along with friendly ties,
    This great and public enterprise.

    He'll never come, the iron horse,
    Unless we shall his way endorse;
    Unless we take sufficient stock,
    He'll far away our wishes mock.
    Chorus: The iron horse is halting now,
    And we are trudging, trudging how.

  11. In the Caboose

    by Ellen P. Allerton

    "Train delayed? and what's to say?"
    "Blocked by last night's snow they say."
    Seven hours or so to wait;
    Well, that's pleasant! but there's the freight.
    Depot loafing no one fancies,
    We'll try the caboose and take our chances.

    Cool this morning in Watertown,
    Somewhat frosty—mercury down;
    Enter caboose—roaring fire,
    With never an air-hole; heat so dire
    That we shrivel and pant; we are roasted through—
    Outside, thermometer thirty-two.

    We start with a jerk and suddenly stop.
    "What's broke?" says one; another "What's up?",
    "Oh, nothing," they answer, "That's our way:
    You must stand the jerking, sorry to say."
    We "stand it" with oft this painful thought:
    Are our heads on yet, or are they not?

    Comrades in misery—let me see;
    Girl like a statue opposite me;
    Back and forth the others jostle-
    She never winks, nor moves a muscle;
    See her, as she sits there now;
    She's "well balanced," anyhow.

    Woman in trouble, tearful eyes,
    Sits by the window, softly cries,
    Pity—for griefs we may not know,
    For breasts that ache, for tears that flow,
    Though we know not why. Her eyelids red
    Tell a sorrowful tale—some hope is dead.

    Man who follows the Golden Rule,
    And lends his papers—a pocket full,
    Has a blank book—once in a minute
    Has an idea, and writes it in it.
    Guess him? Yes, of course I can,
    He's a—well—a newspaper man.

    Blue-eyed fairy, wrapped in fur;
    Sweet young mother tending her.
    Fairy thinks it's "awful far,"
    Wants to get off this "naughty car."
    So do we, young golden-hair;
    All this crowd are with you there!

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