Robert Frost

(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963 / San Francisco)

The Line-Gang - Poem by Robert Frost

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.


Comments about The Line-Gang by Robert Frost

  • Mark Arvizu (7/23/2015 9:52:00 AM)


    Technology comes at a price...... (Report) Reply

    5 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (5/30/2014 9:07:00 PM)


    A wonderful poem. He deals with this heavy topic with a light touch. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: together, sky, running, tree



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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