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THE MAROON TIGER
to hold high the name of our great school. When I first
came here we never lost the spirit no matter how much we
lost.
Let us change our attitude, let us get back where we
were, let’s boost our team; “whether in defeat or victory,
we are loyal just the same.” Anybody can critize but
it takes a real man to stand up in the face of defeat and
keep fighting. It is up to us to show people on the out
side that the Morehouse spirit is not dead, that we are
men made of the “stuff” that those who have gone before
us were made of; don't let it be said that the Morehouse
spirit is dead; let us wake up and again push the old
school back on the top. We are not inferior. We have
the fight that they had hut we have been asleep. Wake
up, Morehouse, “We are not here to dream or drift,
we have hard work to do and loads to lift.” Let’s fight
and show the old Morehouse spirit, and stick together as
of yore. “One for all and all for one.”
Roy D. Jackson, ’29
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SONG OF A VAGABOND
I have worshipped Gods of laughter,
Pan and Bacchus have I worshipped.
Lures of pleasure, wine, and laughter
Taught my mind to hate the hissop.
And my mind to flit its sorrow,
To this place my feel have led;
Sad heart, pierced by Cupid’s arrow,
0 er bare land my feet have led.
Seeking that fair and queenly Nijah,
Whose form unique is cold and dead.
I have worshipped Gods of laughter.
Pleasure’s bliss has been my lure,
I have loved and been forsaken.
Slumbered, dreamed and been awaken,
Fathoms of fancy to pursue.
From Icarus' wings I’ve taken
Troubled worlds to soar above—
Chilling winds my soul have shaken.
Chilling, killing Nijah, my love,
Killing Nijah, source of my love.
Life is far from dull.
If one can find
Happiness and joy
In being kind.
-Raoul Montgomery
THE SINGER
Unethical; then let her be!
And downed by men’s society.
She lives where fiends of darkness frown
In wretched slums she lays her down;
But when this downcast black girl sings,
The cadence of Apollo rings,
The hearts of serf and noble bound
Alike, and revel in the sound.
The social beetles thrust their stings;
She squirms, chokes down a sob and sings.
Grady Farley, 29
DREAM
I have lounged in princess’ taverns,
Worshipped Iampia at her shrines;
I have roamed in hovel caverns,
Caverns where bright light never shines,
Save warm glows from eyes of Nijah,
Save the clear glitter of bright wines.
I have wandered lone and feeble
Through pales where slimy waters flow;
I have loved the queenly Nijah;
I have drunk of life’s gaul and woe.
Grady Farley, ’29
Dream, that you may awaken;
Dream, that you may be shaken
With the light of day
And, arising, will say;
Life—how full of meaning!
And with all your seeming
Bad, you are not, life,
Of mirth and joy so rife;
For with tears that sadden
We water beauties that gladden.
—M. M.
DOOMED
“Too late, too late,” Fate cries, “too late, too late;”
In hopelessness 1 plod my weary way
Through night’s pale shade. I do not ask to wait—
Through joy and tears I've lived my dreary day
And learned, life means to be and flee away.
Grady Farley, ’29
IF
Life is far from sad,
If one can smile
At the force of fear,
And laugh awhile.
ARE YOU?
Have you tarried here, malignant,
Touching your fellows, indignant
At life are you?
Come with me; view
Higher verities
With an eye that sees
No huge imbecility,
No leaving us to hazardry,
But one purpose increasing,
Pointing purpose, ne’er ceasing.
—M. M.