I'm glad I learned to telegraph, this depot job is fine,
Cozy, warm and listening to traffic on the line,

My sounder's ceased its tapping now, hums softly in the night,
There's just a gentle murmuring and glowing signal light,

Another quiet vigil keeping watch by night alone,
Occasionally an order comes to copy on the phone,

I seldom see another face from midnight until dawn,
And keeping busy, sweep the place and put some coffee on,

Suddenly, I hear a clicking, recognize the call,
It's Western Union Telegraph, I take down from the wall

A yellow pad of telegrams and answer with "GA"
An urgent message coming in, "Be brief," the captions say,

A message of bereavement is the text someone will get,
I thank the Lord the addressee is one I've never met,

Morse devised the code we use, of dot and dash type sounds,
Emotion can't be transmitted by wires between two towns,

It's only information we exchange by what we read,
Cold, unfeeling words without the kindness that we need.

                                                           by D. Edgar Murray