My Radio

Radio Record, Volume IV, Issue 51, 3 July 1931, Page 5

My Radio

Little brown box! you sit so quietly yonder, Your dials seem to wreath in friendly smiles. How can there be in you, so small, the power Lo bring me music from a thousand miles? Ali! tell me not you are but wood and metal, Mere coils of wire, and metal plates and screws. You are alive, and fare forth through the ether To earth’s end, and return to bring me news. The house is silent, and the fire burns low, The outer world, as well, is hitshed and still. You seem to call me, "Listen! I will tell you Tales that would make a sluggard’s heart to thrill." I take the "phones. You are my magic window Wherein I scan the lives of other men Who, distant from me, far across the ocean, Swim for an instant through my magic ken: Sometimes I put the light out, and in darkness, Save where your valve-glow lights upon my face, We sit alone, just you and I, and listen. To voices from the void of boundless space. Should swift disaster fall, whate’er the distance, The news comes siraightway o’er the trembling air; Where it has happened, what the loss or slaughter, Can we send help, and how, and when, and where? Sometimes you tell me of the deeds of heroes, Deeds that will rank with Raleigh, Nelson, Drake, And from my fireside I may glimpse the glory Of great deeds, grandly done, for honour’s sake. ‘So, with caressing hand, my magic casket, I close your lid, and quench your glowing light. And there you take your rest, my trusty comrade, Till we fare forth again to-morrow night.

W.

H.

Gisborne.