--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Brimhall-Foley, S. T. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 15 number: 9 published: 1912-07 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'S. T. Brimhall-Foley, "“Wireless”: A Poem," *Improvement Era* 15, no. 9 (July 1912): 813.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1509unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1509unse start_page: 813 end_page: 813 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1912-07) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1509unse publication_year: 1912 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1912, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # “Wireless”: A Poem OUR GOOD ANGEL 813 unnoticed and unpraised, but I dare say future history will know and honor them, as The "Mormon" Pioneers, who reclaimed the Great American Desert. PROVO, UTAH. "Wireless' We list the pealing sounds that roll where vivid lightnings start; Or note the smothered rumbling groans of crater's troubled heart; With sacred awe we search the cause of voices thundered there, Tis then, through nature, God does speak by wireless in the air. The waves that roll upon the deep, and clash and foam and roar; The rolling tempests there that sweep the sea from shore to shore, Have voiced a language — deep, sublime, aloof from minds of men, Yet, carried far on wireless wings, 'tis but God's voice again. The sun, which lights the many worlds, knows all their lands and seas, And fills their clouds from ocean beds to waft them o'er their leas, — Has learned the language of a smile and answers with a ray; While God is speaking all the while, e'en suns list to obey. There is a voice in every ray that plows the blue afar; There is a voice in every orb, and every falling star; Then why not man define the tongue, or read the writing there, Of every tone and sound sublime which God sends through the air? The starry worlds, which travel on through endless realms of space, In order move, and never clash, or loose their lightning pace, But know the language of the deep, of way-marks stamped with light; And God's own voice, though often still, they've learned its power and might. Then, man, be wise, God speaks through thee, his station is thy soul; Arise, record the voice that speaks, and make thy heart its goal. Leave not the rocks and suns and seas his record all to bear, But place thine heart where it shall catch his message through the air. S. T. Brimhall-Foley.