The Atlantic Monthly/Volume 2/Number 5/The Telegraph

by John Greenleaf Whittier

 

The Telegraph.

 

Thou lonely Bay of Trinity,
⁠Ye bosky shores untrod,
Lean, breathless, to the white-lipped sea
⁠And hear the voice of God!

From world to world His couriers fly,
⁠Thought-winged and shod with fire;
The angel of His stormy sky
⁠Rides down the sunken wire.

What saith the herald of the Lord?—
⁠"The world's long strife is done!
Close wedded by that mystic cord,
⁠Her continents are one.

"And one in heart, as one in blood,
⁠Shall all her peoples be;
The hands of human brotherhood
⁠Shall clasp beneath the sea.

"Through Orient seas, o'er Afric's plain,
⁠And Asian mountains borne,
The vigor of the Northern brain
⁠Shall nerve the world outworn.

"From clime to clime, from shore to shore,
⁠Shall thrill the magic thread;
The new Prometheus steals once more
⁠The fire that wakes the dead!

"Earth gray with age shall hear the strain<
⁠Which o'er her childhood rolled;
For her the morning stars again
⁠Shall sing their song of old.

"For, lo! the fall of Ocean's wall,
⁠Space mocked, and Time outrun!—

And round the world, the thought of all
⁠Is as the thought of one!"

Oh, reverently and thankfully
⁠The mighty wonder own!
The deaf can hear, the blind may see,
⁠The work is God's alone.

Throb on, strong pulse of thunder! beat
⁠From answering beach to beach!
Fuse nations in thy kindly heat,
⁠And melt the chains of each!

Wild terror of the sky above,
⁠Glide tamed and dumb below!
Bear gently, Ocean's carrier-dove,
⁠Thy errands to and fro!

Weave on, swift shuttle of the Lord,
⁠Beneath the deep so far,
The bridal robe of Earth's accord,
⁠The funeral shroud of war!

The poles unite, the zones agree,
⁠The tongues of striving cease;
As on the Sea of Galilee,
⁠The Christ is whispering, "Peace!"