The Telephone Directory                                                                                                   
What is there seeming duller than this book,
That stolid volume of prosaic print?
And yet it is a glass through which we look
On wonderland and marvels without stint.
It is a key which will unlock the gate
Of distance and of time and circumstance,
A wand that makes the wires articulate
With hum of trade and whisper of romance!

Somehow there is enchantment in each page--
The whirr of wheels, the murmurs of the mart,
The myriad mighty voices of the age,
The throbbing of the great world's restless heart,--
Sure are the sounds this volume seems to store
For him who feels the magic of its thrall,
Who views the vistas it unrolls before
His eyes that scarce can comprehend them all!

Here is the guide to all the vast extent
The wires have bound together, this will show
The way to help when need is imminent,
When terror threatens or when life burns low;
This brings the lover to his heart's desire,
That he may speak to her o'er hill and lea,
This is the secret of the singing wire,
To all the "world without" this is the key!

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