The Little Black Box of jewels and rocks
with lanterns that flicker and glow,
make lighter the gloom in my little back-room
where often I hasten to go.
An anthem it peals of whistles and squeals
and voices so ghostly and dear
that you'd never decry, should you chance to pass by-
what a brotherhood foregathers here!
Each separate tone has a soul of its own;
each voice is the voice of a friend.
United through space in this gathering-place
at the radiant signal's end.
Reverberant sounds ride the wave that rebounds,
like the waves of the sea from afar,
reporting the doings, the comings and goings
of brothers... wherever they are.
A curious band, spread over the land,
yet joined from equator to poles
disperses the gloom in the little back-rooms
by this magic communion of souls.
I could part with a lot of the things that I've got,
but I'll carry my love to the tomb,
of that little black box and the joys it unlocks
... when I enter that little back room.
By Max P. Vander Horck, WA6HUWwith lanterns that flicker and glow,
make lighter the gloom in my little back-room
where often I hasten to go.
An anthem it peals of whistles and squeals
and voices so ghostly and dear
that you'd never decry, should you chance to pass by-
what a brotherhood foregathers here!
Each separate tone has a soul of its own;
each voice is the voice of a friend.
United through space in this gathering-place
at the radiant signal's end.
Reverberant sounds ride the wave that rebounds,
like the waves of the sea from afar,
reporting the doings, the comings and goings
of brothers... wherever they are.
A curious band, spread over the land,
yet joined from equator to poles
disperses the gloom in the little back-rooms
by this magic communion of souls.
I could part with a lot of the things that I've got,
but I'll carry my love to the tomb,
of that little black box and the joys it unlocks
... when I enter that little back room.
Published in QST, November 1966, page 33