Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
The Deep-sea Cables
T
Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where the blind white sea-snakes are.
There is no sound, no echo of sound, in the deserts of the deep,
Or the great grey level plains of ooze where the shell-burred cables creep.
Words, and the words of men, flicker and flutter and beat—
Warning, sorrow, and gain, salutation and mirth—
For a Power troubles the Still that has neither voice nor feet.
Joining hands in the gloom, a league from the last of the sun.
Hush! Men talk to-day o’er the waste of the ultimate slime,
And a new Word runs between: whispering, “Let us be one!”