This entry was posted on Sunday, January 8th, 2012 at 8:57 pm and is filed under life.
Take telegraph wires, a lonely moor, And fit them together. The thing comes alive in your ear.
Towns whisper to towns over the heather. But the wires cannot hide from the weather.
So oddly, so daintily made It is picked up and played.
Such unearthly airs The ear hears, and whithers!
In the revolving ballroom of space, Bowed over the moor, a bright face
Draws out of telegraph wires the tones That empty human bones.
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January 12th, 2012 at 4:27 pm
Take telegraph wires, a lonely moor,
And fit them together. The thing comes alive in your ear.
Towns whisper to towns over the heather.
But the wires cannot hide from the weather.
So oddly, so daintily made
It is picked up and played.
Such unearthly airs
The ear hears, and whithers!
In the revolving ballroom of space,
Bowed over the moor, a bright face
Draws out of telegraph wires the tones
That empty human bones.