Our fathers walked around the hill, And we pursue their journey still, Ah, toilfully we do it! Stenography, direct and fleet, Has used its brain to save its feet, And made a tunnel through it. With inky lines complexly wrought We spin a spider-web for thought, And lazily invite it; Stenography, of fiercer mold, Leaps after thought, with spirit bold, As far as it can sight it. In clumsy coaches dull and slow The longhand writers plodding go, -- Or break down, woe betide it! Stenography, a railroad train, Speeds on the track as Driver Brain Desires to urge and guide it. For thought is like a maiden gay Whom Shorthand takes in dashing way, And gladly she receives him; But Longhand is the drawling kind, Who tries to speak his sluggish mind, And while he tries, she -- leaves him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE JAIN BIRD HOSPITAL IN DELHI by WILLIAM MEREDITH THE HOUSE OF DUST: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN VARIATIONS: 15 by CONRAD AIKEN CAMPUS SONNET: MAY MORNING by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET TO THE ROCK THAT WILL BE A CORNERSTONE OF THE HOUSE by ROBINSON JEFFERS ISOLATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OFFERING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL - LECTURER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |