_Hallo!--are you there_? That's the cue international, Henceforth we'll hope, and we trust it may lead To colloquies pleasant, relations more rational. May "saucers" and tubes telephonic succeed In setting the world "by the ears," in a fashion Not meant by the men who invented that phrase. May nail-biting nagging and rancorous passion Die out, like a craze! Why, bless us, and save us! We _ought_ to behave us A little bit better for all our new light. From incurable savagery nothing can save us If Science can't cool down our fondness for fight. With so many chances of "talking things over," Like comrades in council, across the broad sea, Nations ought to be nice, as a girl and her lover At five o'clock tea! Eh? _Vox et præterea nihil_? What matter How close ears may seem if the hearts are apart? Humph! Nothing go easy as cynical chatter; Distrust's diplomatic, and satire sounds "smart." But, as RAIKES suggests, there _is_ something in hearing The "great human voice" o'er some three hundred miles, In spite of the scorn that's so given to sneering, The hate that reviles. One wonders what TALLEYRAND, subtle old schemer! Would think of the Telephone were _he_ alive. Wits sniff at the _savant_, and mock at the dreamer, Who else, though, so hard for humanity strive? BELLONA's sworn backers are woefully numerous; Peace, let us pray, may claim this as _her_ friend; The "Sentiment" flouted by swashbucklers humorous Sways, at the end. If language was given our thoughts for concealing, The Telephone--'tis but a travelling Voice!-- Need not be the agent of reckless revealing, And caution must often be candour's wise choice. Unwisdom is sure to be sometimes caught napping, And tongues may wag foolishly e'en through the wire. Facilities freer for summary snapping No sage can desire. Great diplomats, proud of their "able dispatches," From trusting the tube with their wisdom may shrink. The brain that in secret shrewd policies hatches, May not care to canvas 'cute schemes "o'er a drink." Yet times must be many when sense will be winner By chatting of trifles, which nations have riled, As freely as though _vis-à-vis_ at a dinner, And carefully "tiled." Now England and France can thus gossip together, And CARNOT and SALISBURY thus hob-a-nob, We'll hope for set-fair international weather. Our RAIKES and their ROCHE appear well "on the job." The Telephone's triumph at least is not sinister. Things should go easier somehow--with care, When patriot Minister greets patriot Minister, "_Hallo!--are you there?_" * * * * *