Elliott Carter — The Line-gang

Here come the line-gang pioneering by They throw a forest down less cut than broken They plant dead trees for living, and the dead They string together with a living thread They string an instrument against the sky Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken Will run as hushed as when they were a thought But in no hush they string it: they go past With shouts afar to pull the cable taut To hold it hard until they make it fast To ease away they have it. With a laugh An oath of towns that set the wild at naught They bring the telephone and telegraph