The telegraph--its secretTHE TELEGRAPH—ITS SECRET.
The telegraph--its secret
Looking up in musing wonderAt the silent wires above him,And profoundly meditating,Suddenly says Mike—that’s Michael—Suddenly says Pat—that’s Patrick—“Can you show me, can you tell me,How it is that news and letters,How it is that big newspapers,Full of news, and fun, and wisdom,Travel ever back and forward,Travel with the speed of lightning—Always going, always coming,And yet never interfering;While we, sitting under, watching,Can not see them, can not hear them,Can not draw their secret from them;Can not tell how ’tis they do it,Can not quite believe they do it,Though we all the while do know it?”“Should you ask me, Mike”—that’s Michael—“Should you ask,” says Pat—that’s Patrick—“How these silent wires above usTalk, and write, and carry letters—Carry news, and carry orders,Though we can not see nor hear them,Sitting under, watching, listening—Can not see them, can not hear them,Can not catch the smallest whisperOf the messages they carry—I should answer, I should tell you,That those little wires are hollow,With a passage running through themFrom the one end to the other;And they send, not papers through them,And they send, not written letters;But they send—these strange magicians—Through those passages so narrow,Whispering spirits, living fairies,Flying ever back and forward,Message-bearing, hither, thither—Faithful messengers, that tell notYou, nor me, though watching, listening,What the messages they carry.”“Och! indade,” says Mike—that’s Michael—“Do you know it, Pat”—that’s Patrick—“Do you know it, Pat, for certain?Have you seen the whispering spirits?Have you seen these living fairies?Have you heard them shooting by us?Have you heard their fairy whisper?Tell me, do you know it, surely?Tell me, is it only blarney?”Then in anger, Pat—that’s Patrick—Proudly answered, “Mike”—that’s Michael—“Sure you know I’m Pat”—that’s Patrick—“Sure you know I was in College;Four long years in F——m College—Hewing wood and bearing water,Kindling fires, and chores achieving,For the great and learned scholarsOf the mighty F——m College.So you needn’t, Mike”—that’s Michael—“Set me down for a Know-Nothing;Needn’t reckon me a Hindoo;Needn’t doubt that what I tell youIs as true as if a lawyerShould have told it to a jury;Or as if a man in CongressOr in caucus said and swore itOn his everlasting honor,On his faith and on his conscience;This, I trust, will satisfy you.”
Looking up in musing wonderAt the silent wires above him,And profoundly meditating,Suddenly says Mike—that’s Michael—Suddenly says Pat—that’s Patrick—“Can you show me, can you tell me,How it is that news and letters,How it is that big newspapers,Full of news, and fun, and wisdom,Travel ever back and forward,Travel with the speed of lightning—Always going, always coming,And yet never interfering;While we, sitting under, watching,Can not see them, can not hear them,Can not draw their secret from them;Can not tell how ’tis they do it,Can not quite believe they do it,Though we all the while do know it?”
Looking up in musing wonder
At the silent wires above him,
And profoundly meditating,
Suddenly says Mike—that’s Michael—
Suddenly says Pat—that’s Patrick—
“Can you show me, can you tell me,
How it is that news and letters,
How it is that big newspapers,
Full of news, and fun, and wisdom,
Travel ever back and forward,
Travel with the speed of lightning—
Always going, always coming,
And yet never interfering;
While we, sitting under, watching,
Can not see them, can not hear them,
Can not draw their secret from them;
Can not tell how ’tis they do it,
Can not quite believe they do it,
Though we all the while do know it?”
“Should you ask me, Mike”—that’s Michael—“Should you ask,” says Pat—that’s Patrick—“How these silent wires above usTalk, and write, and carry letters—Carry news, and carry orders,Though we can not see nor hear them,Sitting under, watching, listening—Can not see them, can not hear them,Can not catch the smallest whisperOf the messages they carry—I should answer, I should tell you,That those little wires are hollow,With a passage running through themFrom the one end to the other;And they send, not papers through them,And they send, not written letters;But they send—these strange magicians—Through those passages so narrow,Whispering spirits, living fairies,Flying ever back and forward,Message-bearing, hither, thither—Faithful messengers, that tell notYou, nor me, though watching, listening,What the messages they carry.”
“Should you ask me, Mike”—that’s Michael—
“Should you ask,” says Pat—that’s Patrick—
“How these silent wires above us
Talk, and write, and carry letters—
Carry news, and carry orders,
Though we can not see nor hear them,
Sitting under, watching, listening—
Can not see them, can not hear them,
Can not catch the smallest whisper
Of the messages they carry—
I should answer, I should tell you,
That those little wires are hollow,
With a passage running through them
From the one end to the other;
And they send, not papers through them,
And they send, not written letters;
But they send—these strange magicians—
Through those passages so narrow,
Whispering spirits, living fairies,
Flying ever back and forward,
Message-bearing, hither, thither—
Faithful messengers, that tell not
You, nor me, though watching, listening,
What the messages they carry.”
“Och! indade,” says Mike—that’s Michael—“Do you know it, Pat”—that’s Patrick—“Do you know it, Pat, for certain?Have you seen the whispering spirits?Have you seen these living fairies?Have you heard them shooting by us?Have you heard their fairy whisper?Tell me, do you know it, surely?Tell me, is it only blarney?”
“Och! indade,” says Mike—that’s Michael—
“Do you know it, Pat”—that’s Patrick—
“Do you know it, Pat, for certain?
Have you seen the whispering spirits?
Have you seen these living fairies?
Have you heard them shooting by us?
Have you heard their fairy whisper?
Tell me, do you know it, surely?
Tell me, is it only blarney?”
Then in anger, Pat—that’s Patrick—Proudly answered, “Mike”—that’s Michael—“Sure you know I’m Pat”—that’s Patrick—“Sure you know I was in College;Four long years in F——m College—Hewing wood and bearing water,Kindling fires, and chores achieving,For the great and learned scholarsOf the mighty F——m College.So you needn’t, Mike”—that’s Michael—“Set me down for a Know-Nothing;Needn’t reckon me a Hindoo;Needn’t doubt that what I tell youIs as true as if a lawyerShould have told it to a jury;Or as if a man in CongressOr in caucus said and swore itOn his everlasting honor,On his faith and on his conscience;This, I trust, will satisfy you.”
Then in anger, Pat—that’s Patrick—
Proudly answered, “Mike”—that’s Michael—
“Sure you know I’m Pat”—that’s Patrick—
“Sure you know I was in College;
Four long years in F——m College—
Hewing wood and bearing water,
Kindling fires, and chores achieving,
For the great and learned scholars
Of the mighty F——m College.
So you needn’t, Mike”—that’s Michael—
“Set me down for a Know-Nothing;
Needn’t reckon me a Hindoo;
Needn’t doubt that what I tell you
Is as true as if a lawyer
Should have told it to a jury;
Or as if a man in Congress
Or in caucus said and swore it
On his everlasting honor,
On his faith and on his conscience;
This, I trust, will satisfy you.”