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!"