With Apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson

1. Half a meg, half a meg, Half a meg one more, He marshaled with all his Tech Towards her he lumbered. “Think, Electron Brigade! “Woo her fine face!” he said: Weighted much with all his Tech Towards her he lumbered.

2. “Think, Electron Brigade!” Email message well made? Answering machine gone His voice not thundered: Machines as helpful tool, Machines date not at school, Machines played him the fool: Weighted with all his Tech Towards her he lumbered.

3. Speech to the right of him, Speech to the left of him, Speech in the front of him Confus’d and dismay’d; Bright with options of fate, Choosing e-tronic state, Minding the woe of Tech, Avoiding thoughts of Hate Towards her he lumbered.

4. Push’d many a cold button, Push’d wise like a lion, Smooth melting metal ton, Looking for the right, touch He paused and wonder’d: Embrace the battery hum Throughout the blank dark sum; Sony, A-O-L Down by his gifted thumb Soften’d and plunder’d. Waited in silence, plain By her he lumbered.

5. Speech to the right of him, Speech to the left of him, Speech in back of him Confus’d and dismay’d; Bright with options of fate, He who pursued a mate, Tried for the exact state Dismissing woes of Tech Trapped in digital Hate, A feeling lost was him, Lost her he lumbered.

6. How can his talk be true? All in a techy slew! Every man has blundered. Fear his trite tragic raid, Fear Electron Brigade, From her he lumbered.

Copyright © 2000 Charles Frey All Rights Reserved

Charles Hageman Frey is a student of philosophy and science living in Washington, D.C.