  (The Sphygmophon is an apparatus connected with the telephone, by the help of which the movements of the pulse and heart may be rendered audible) I WANDERED by the brookside, I wandered by the mill; The Sphygmophon was fixed there, Its wires ran past the hill. I heeded not the grasshopper, Nor chirp of any bird, For the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. To test his apparatus, One end I closely press'd, The other at a distance, I hoped was next his chest. I listened for his footfall, I listened for his word, Still the bumping of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. He came not, no he came not, The night came on alone; And thinking he had tricked me, The evening air passed by my cheek, The leaves above were stirred, When—the thumping of his own heart Was all the sound I heard. With joy I grasped the magnet, When some one stood behind, His hand was on my shoulder (But that I did not mind). Each spoke then—nearer—nearer, We shouted every word; But the booming of our own hearts Was all the sound we heard. Anonymous. |
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