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(SONG OF THE WIRES.)
See the wires, the slender wires, hanging on their forest spires!
They are swinging, they are clinging to the weird electric fires.
Little did the rustling trees think to bear such fruits as these;
Little did they mean to hand views and news from land to land.
See them swinging, hear them singing, through the night and through the day!
And this is part of what they say:
They are swinging, they are clinging to the weird electric fires.
Little did the rustling trees think to bear such fruits as these;
Little did they mean to hand views and news from land to land.
See them swinging, hear them singing, through the night and through the day!
And this is part of what they say:
There is a wedding in the town—
The bride—how fair to see!
As ne'er before—as ne'er again
In loveliness is she.
The bride—how fair to see!
As ne'er before—as ne'er again
In loveliness is she.
A hundred men have digged the earth
To find these jewels rare;
They dived within the ocean depths
For pearls to strew her hair.
To find these jewels rare;
They dived within the ocean depths
For pearls to strew her hair.
They spilled their blood on battle-fields—
'Tis dripping even now—
To find the crown of diamonds
That decks her queenly brow.
'Tis dripping even now—
To find the crown of diamonds
That decks her queenly brow.
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The seamstress bit a bloodless lip
And struggled 'gainst her dreams,
To shape that star-strewn wedding-gown,
And clench its costly seams.
And struggled 'gainst her dreams,
To shape that star-strewn wedding-gown,
And clench its costly seams.
Yon man is cursing him who walks
In triumph at her side;
A maiden here in secret weeps
That she is not the bride.
In triumph at her side;
A maiden here in secret weeps
That she is not the bride.
Their gift-room is a palace-nook
Of baubles strangely fair,
As bright and treasure-strewn as if
Aladdin conjured there.
Of baubles strangely fair,
As bright and treasure-strewn as if
Aladdin conjured there.
O wedded ones, if you have love,
May it be deep and strong:
It will be tested; for I soon
Must sing your funeral song!
May it be deep and strong:
It will be tested; for I soon
Must sing your funeral song!
See the wires, the serpent-wires, bearing mandates and desires!
They are swinging, they are clinging to the weird electric fires;
Hear them singing, night and day!
And this is part of what they say:
They are swinging, they are clinging to the weird electric fires;
Hear them singing, night and day!
And this is part of what they say:
Send far and wide the mournful news—
A millionaire is dead!
On rustling tablets through the land
The tidings shall be read.
A millionaire is dead!
On rustling tablets through the land
The tidings shall be read.
With tiptoe-step his servants flit
Along the velvet floor;
And darkly scowling coils of crape
Are clinging to the door.
Along the velvet floor;
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Are clinging to the door.
A richly vestured priest will quote
A list of virtues long;
The city's leading vocalist
Will sell her sweetest song:
A list of virtues long;
The city's leading vocalist
Will sell her sweetest song:
Then they will drag him from his home
With horses sleek and fleet;
And you shall see a black-plumed grave
Go skurrying up the street.
With horses sleek and fleet;
And you shall see a black-plumed grave
Go skurrying up the street.
Perchance the temple's gilded hall
An hour of him may win;
Still, open yawns the grave-yard gate,
And he must enter in.
An hour of him may win;
Still, open yawns the grave-yard gate,
And he must enter in.
Ye million dead, edge close, and give
The silk-clad pauper room!—
A marble brow and marble heart
Within a marble tomb.
The silk-clad pauper room!—
A marble brow and marble heart
Within a marble tomb.
Hear them sing of trade and battle; hear the gold-coin chink and rattle!
Hear the feverish stammering ticker: stocks are up! and stocks are down!
There's rejoicing, there is wailing, there is ruin in the town.
He who was a prince at morning is a beggar of the night;
She who held the world in scorning now may wither in its sight.
Ah! a battle now is on! tell the news and who has won!
Hear the bullets ringing, stinging—through the wires' spasmodic singing—
Chanting through the blood-dimmed day?—
And this is what they say:
Hear the feverish stammering ticker: stocks are up! and stocks are down!
There's rejoicing, there is wailing, there is ruin in the town.
He who was a prince at morning is a beggar of the night;
She who held the world in scorning now may wither in its sight.
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Hear the bullets ringing, stinging—through the wires' spasmodic singing—
Chanting through the blood-dimmed day?—
And this is what they say:
Hot cannon herd upon the hills
And rifles in the glen;
Oh, all the world will listen, now:
For men are murdering men!
And rifles in the glen;
Oh, all the world will listen, now:
For men are murdering men!
Not hunting God's four-footed beasts
Or feathered clans, they came:
A nation is their hunting-ground,
And other men their game.
Or feathered clans, they came:
A nation is their hunting-ground,
And other men their game.
He was a glittering general
With thousands at his nod:
He is a fragment of the turf:
A clod beneath the clod.
With thousands at his nod:
He is a fragment of the turf:
A clod beneath the clod.
He was a sunny-hearted boy—
A hope, but even now:
He is a specter in the home,
With blood upon its brow.
A hope, but even now:
He is a specter in the home,
With blood upon its brow.
She was a proud and winsome wife
The world could not assail:
She walks the street a ghost in black
Beneath a widow's veil.
The world could not assail:
She walks the street a ghost in black
Beneath a widow's veil.
She was a mother, fond and proud,
When morning's gems were strown:
She is a wrecked old woman, now,
And writhes and sobs alone.
When morning's gems were strown:
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And writhes and sobs alone.
Throng round the staring bulletin—
Look—listen—one and all:
For with the swaying battle-line,
Your stocks must rise and fall!
Look—listen—one and all:
For with the swaying battle-line,
Your stocks must rise and fall!
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