Sketch from Sonnets of a Telephone Girl, 1903, illustrated by John C Hill; from Hathi Trust.
From the cratered Hells of No-Man’s Land
To the switchboard where you sit,
There are none who serve so loyally,
We know that you do your “bit.”
For the world’s bound round with a copper wire
With you on the outer end,
Each flashing light that you plug in the night
A message of hope you send.
You sit all alone at a magic loom
And weave from out of the air
The words of faith, of home, of love,
That go to our boys “out there.”
For the war’s not won with bursting shells,
Shrapnel or cannon alone,
You’re doing your part with all your heart,
Little girl of the telephone.
— Telephone topics, “To the Telephone Girl,” By Frances A. Johnson, Philadelphia Toll Operator
