Virtual Love by Telephony

I courted Miss Beatrice Bell through a marvelous machine, The finest copper courtship that the Empire's ever seen. No roses crossed the countryside, no horses broke a sweat— I merely rang her sitting room and hoped she'd pay the debt. Oh, virtual love by telegraph's unruly cousin's grace! I swoon for just a disembodied voice instead of face. Though separated miles apart by hedgerow, hill, and fen, We meet each evening faithfully... from quarter past to ten. "Good evening," cried the operator, "Kindly hold the wire!" Our romance paused for seventeen old ladies to inquire If Mrs. Potts had laid an egg, if Jenkins sold his mule, Or why the vicar's nephew thought the Queen looked rather cool. Oh, virtual love by telephony, so modern, so refined! She knows my every heartfelt thought—provided we've a line. I kiss the speaking trumpet with the utmost dignity, Then polish off the mouthpiece lest she's tasting yesterday's tea. At last I asked, "Dear Beatrice, would you become my bride?" A dreadful burst of static came and crackled far and wide. The answer reached me garbled as, "I fancy... goats... and ham..." I purchased both in celebration. She'd merely answered, "Yes, I am." The neighbors call it foolishness, my father calls it fraud. "My son," he cries, "One cannot woo through cables under sod!" Yet Shakespeare never dreamed of this, nor Byron, full of sighs— A romance built on copper wire and occasional crossed lines. So raise a toast to distant hearts connected by a bell, Where every "Can you hear me now?" is cast like magic spell. For though the century be wrapped in waistcoats, soot, and steam, We pioneered long-distance love—the Victorian online dream! Who fell in love quite virtually... thanks to glorious telephony!