1970. A VISION OF THE COMING AGE. BY _JOHN COLLINS_. BURLINGTON, N. J. 1870. 1970 I was musing alone one hot afternoon, In the shade of a vine on a bright day in June; Not a sound in the air but the hum of the bees, Nor a zephyr to sway the tops of the trees; The cricket seemed tired of the shrill noise he made, The butterfly folded his wings in the shade, The flowers, so fragrant when day had begun, No longer breathed perfume before the fierce sun: O’er nature a dull sleepy silence had grown, And even the clouds seemed moveless as stone. Reclined in a chair, with my face towards the sky, The tall posts of the telegraph thought-road near by, I fancied I heard every word sent along, The short business message--the tale of some wrong, An accident, _not_ on the Jersey railway, The prices of stocks--events of the day, The lover’s popped question, brief, pithy and sweet, The assent of his charmer, his wishes to meet, A summons to haste to the bed of a friend, Whose life’s flickering taper drew near to its end, An invite to a wedding, a lecture or ball, A county convention--a lyceum hall; Like leaves by the wild winter wind swept along, They came and they passed in a vast countless throng, And I watched and I listened with eager desire To find out what passed through the quick thrilling wire. The date I was sure of--again and again. It was “nineteen hundred and threescore and ten.” Came the first to a merchant of rank in Japan, Saying “Forward those teas as soon as you can.” In two minutes returned, “I will do as you say, But send me the Bibles you promised to-day.” “Buy for me,” said a lady in Boston, in haste, To a dear Cuban friend, “(I trust to your taste); A barrel of oranges, fresh from the tree, A dozen pine-apples, the fairest you see, Two bunches of large, ripe bananas--a cask Of the best of preserves--’tis all that I ask, And a few limes or lemons--smooth, juicy and bright, In time to prepare for my party to-night.” In half an hour came, propelled through the air, The fruits and the sweets packed with exquisite care, And the fair one, delighted, sent word to each friend Far or near, a long sociable evening to spend. Methought that they came by balloon or by rail, By the pneumatic tube, by steam or by sail, At the rate of a thousand of miles in a day, To the hub of New England hurrying away. The next bit of news my very soul stirred, ’Twas the greatest explosion that ever was heard: An engine blew up, attached to a train Of a hundred full cars on the Omaha plain--