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Ode To Japan It rains; the thunder booms on high! 1'here comes a clash, a flash, a sigh, The storm is here! I hear a moan, a groan, a shriek. I hearken to the storm-God speak. He must be near! The livers race, the lakes o’erflow! The reptiles crawl, the sky-birds soar! All nature sighs! A streak of lightning darts around, Accompanied by deaf’ning sound. In gray-black skies. The trees are torn up from their base, And fiercely hurled far into space, By fretfull breeze. Tlie minaret, with lofty dome, Seeks once again, its lowly borne; By earth-quake seized! Great Buddha if thou love this land, Why stopp’st not with mighty hand The elements? My answer was the north-wind’s wail. A chilling blast, a driving gale Staightway commenced. And then, at last, the Dragon came. With seven tongues of burning flame. Accursed fire! Providing men, both rich and poor, All mortal things, unclean and pure, With funeral pyre. It raged, and scorched with searing flamt The house of ill repute and shame, Of tortured souls! It ravaged, too, the burial ground Alike of peasant and of crown, Where stalk the ghouls. Japan, no more shall feel the beat Of warriors tread with sturdy feet, To meet the foe. Her days are past when maidens fair, Without a trouble or a care, Profess false woe. Japan’s gay butterfly on wing, lias ceased to dance or even sing Before the flame! The tawny man no more shall roam. In clouds of smoke he sought the home, From whence he came. —John Pittman, ’26. A PROPOSAL Ah, child, a sip will not appease; Bring on the draughts and drench the day; Give me the brimming bowl, O please, Or take the cup away. What ill indeed you do me then, What faulty contemplations rise In spite of fate and demons when I look into your eyes! Yes, let me drink, my child, and quench The scorching thirst that chokes my soul; Should come the answer “yes” I’d flinch And flounce as one made whole. 0 tell me, tell me, “yes,” my child, You hold the throttle of my life; Earth’s pleasures loom before me, mild; Heaven made you for my wife. Ah, child, a sip will not-appease; Bring on the draughts and drench the day; Give me the brimming bowl, O please, Or take the cup away. —A. P. Turner, ’24. MAID IN DESPAIR Wake, wake, maiden, wake; Yonr hopes embrace, your tears forsake; The sun is mirrored in the lake; The past is gone, new courage take- Rise, rise, maiden, rise; When shodows flit upon the skies, Displaying images of sighs, The spark of faith, it often dies. Stand, stand, maiden, stand; Your opportunity’s at hand The odds of fortune to disband, And let the drifting anchor land. Sing, sing, maiden, sing; A song that pleasant mem’ries bring; For when such pleasing ditties ring, Despair dethroned, will lose its sting. —A. P. Turner, ’24.