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Poem by Robert Lee Frost


The Line-Gang


Here come the line-gang pioneering by,
They throw a forest down less cut than broken.
They plant dead trees for living, and the dead
They string together with a living thread.
They string an instrument against the sky
Wherein words whether beaten out or spoken
Will run as hushed as when they were a thought
But in no hush they string it: they go past
With shouts afar to pull the cable taught,
To hold it hard until they make it fast,
To ease away--they have it. With a laugh,
An oath of towns that set the wild at naught
They bring the telephone and telegraph.



Robert Lee Frost


Robert Lee Frost's other poems:
  1. On Going Unnoticed
  2. The Vantage Point
  3. Wild Grapes
  4. Hyla Brook
  5. The Self-Seeker


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