Sitting here by my desk all day, <br />Hearing the constant click <br />As the messages speed on their way, <br />And the call comes sharp and quick-- <br />Oh, what a varied tale they tell <br />Of joy and hope and fear! <br />The funeral knell and the marriage bell <br />In their steady tick I hear. <br /> <br /> <br />'Mother is dying; come at once.' <br /> <br />And the tears will almost start, <br />For tender daughters and loving sons-- <br />God pity each aching heart! <br />Ah! how the haunting memories press <br />Of the mother's unfailing tenderness, <br />That is now forever o'er. <br /> <br /> <br />'I am well; will come tonight.' <br /> <br />How bright some eyes will glow <br />All day long with a happy light <br />As they watch the moments go. <br /> <br />Have had no letters; is something wrong?' <br /> <br />Some heart is sad today, <br />Counting the hours that seem so long <br />For the sake of one away. <br /> <br /> <br />'Arthur Ross, by accident killed; <br />Tell his mother, am coming home.' <br /> <br />Alas for the home with such sorrow filled, <br />When the bitter tidings come! <br /> <br />'Alice is better; gaining fast.' <br /> <br />And hearts that have been bowed <br />Under their weight of fear, at last <br />Shall lose their weary load. <br /> <br />So over the wires the tidings speed, <br />Bitter and grave and gay; <br />Some hearts shall beat, and some shall bleed, <br />For the tale they have to say. <br />As I sit all day by my desk alone <br />I hear the steam go by, <br />And catch the wires' changeful tone <br />With a smile and then a sigh.<br /><br />Anonymous Americas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-telegraph-clerk/
