The Telegraph Operator
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This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1958, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 65 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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The Telegraph Operator edit
I will not wash my face;
I will not brush my hair;
I “pig” around the place —
There’s nobody to care.
Nothing but rock and tree;
Nothing but wood and stone,
Oh, God, it’s hell to be
Alone, alone, alone!
Snow-peaks and deep-gashed draws
Corral me in a ring.
I feel as if I was
The only living thing
On all this blighted earth;
And so I frowst and shrink,
And crouching by my hearth
I hear the thoughts I think.
I think of all I miss —
The boys I used to know;
The girls I used to kiss;
The coin I used to blow:
The bars I used to haunt;
The racket and the row;
The beers I didn’t want
(I wish I had ’em now).
Day after day the same,
Only a little worse;
No one to grouch or blame —
Oh, for a loving curse!
Oh, in the night I fear,
Haunted by nameless things,
Just for a voice to cheer,
Just for a hand that clings!
Faintly as from a star
Voices come o’er the line;
Voices of ghosts afar,
Not in this world of mine;
Lives in whose loom I grope;
Words in whose weft I hear
Eager the thrill of hope,
Awful the chill of fear.
I’m thinking out aloud;
I reckon that is bad;
(The snow is like a shroud) —
Maybe I’m going mad.
Say! wouldn’t that be tough?
This awful hush that hugs
And chokes one is enough
To make a man go “bugs”.
There’s not a thing to do;
I cannot sleep at night;
No wonder I’m so blue;
Oh, for a friendly fight!
The din and rush of strife;
A music-hall aglow;
A crowd, a city, life —
Dear God, I miss it so!
Here, you have moped enough!
Brace up and play the game!
But say, it’s awful tough —
Day after day the same
(I’ve said that twice, I bet).
Well, there’s not much to say.
I wish I had a pet,
Or something I could play.
Cheer up! don’t get so glum
And sick of everything;
The worst is yet to come;
God help you till the Spring.
God shield you from the Fear;
Teach you to laugh, not moan.
Ha! ha! it sounds so queer —
Alone, alone, alone!