The Telephone

Harriet Monroe 1860 (Chicago) – 1936 (Arequipa)



Your voice, beloved, on the living wire,
Borne to me by the spirit powerful
Who binds the atoms and leaps out to pull
Great suns together! Ah, what magic lyre,
Strung for God's fingers, sounds to my desire
The little words immortal, wonderful,
That all the separating miles annul
And touch my spirit with your kiss of fire!
What house of dreams do we inhabit—yea,
What brave enchanted palace is our home,
Green-curtained, lit with cresset stars aglow,
If thus it windows gardens far away,
Groves inaccessible whence voices come
That soft in the ear call where we may not go!

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

31 sec read
44

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABCDABBAEFGEHG
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 584
Words 103
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 14

Harriet Monroe

Harriet Monroe was an American editor, scholar, literary critic, poet and patron of the arts. more…

All Harriet Monroe poems | Harriet Monroe Books

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    "The Telephone" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/16935/the-telephone>.

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