Somewhere is closed a circuit,
And miles and miles away
A filament is lighted;
A wheel goes into play;
A thought is carried quickly,
In clearest tones expressed,
Because an impulse flashes
North, South, or East, or West.
And how? Beneath the pavement,
Away from human gaze,
Across the humid darkness
Wires run in countless ways.
In cables, ever-reaching
Through subterranean curves,
They carry thought and action.
They are the city’s nerves.
[Illustration’s upper half depicts an above-ground daytime view of a
cityscape. The lower half depicts a below-ground view cast in darkness
except for two unclothed men; bolts of electricity extend from their
hands. The art is signed “Pancoast.”]