February 01, 1925
Image 29 The Athenaeum. (Atlanta, GA) 1898-1925, February 01, 1925, Image 29
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As a voice once heard
Whose thrill I never can forget
That fills with joy my sad heart yet—
So does your kind and loving voice
Fall like a fairy song
Upon my ear, I then rejoice—
As in love’s lane I wonder on.
I thence invoke thy aid, Venus
And Bacchus, god of wine;
Come now let me to thee intrust -
These woeful thoughts of mine.
Conduct my footsteps to Avernus
That I might there descend;
Dreams that linger still And safely pass old Cerberus
Of flow’y hill, of sparkling rill,
My dear, were never real until
I saw your gentle smiling face;
A palm your perfect form,
Drenched with the gift of nature’s grace,
A masterpice of nature’s charm.
My life there to amend.
Grant to me strength Promethean
And Herculean sway,
To find the river Lethean
And wash my thoughts away.
Little sleeping babe,
Wrapped up in life, a spotless dream;
Twere better that I bathe
And come again to earth
B Than stay here in this dreadful air
Windows of heav’n your bright eyes seem Mid sorrow, pain and dearth.
To strain my mind of worthless thought —IT. F. Crawl, ’26.
And give me hope and cheer,
Oh! what joy to my heart is brought
By memories of you, my dear. SHIFLESS STUDE
A heart once pierced Morehouse is my college; I shall not
By siren’s song beats yet in vain; want another. She maketh me to lay down
She lets it beat in ruthless pain everything for my books, or sendeth me
Just as my own heart sobs for thee, home for flunking. She restoreth my sub-
While yours untouched by love jects by giving me more of them; she
leadeth me to the studyhall for passing
sake. Yea though I walk into the cla$s-
Wastes not a precious sigh for me;
Who treads the fairer lane of love?
—Grady Farley, Ac. ’25
Thou who nourished me from the milk
0 thy breast,
That I might discern the light
And prove to the world
A true Ethiopean crest
Long years of weary toil
Have shadowed my path aright,
But for thy sake
Shall I toil o’er the realms of hate
And grasp the light on the scanty height,
Left by my father on a weary night
To guide me, his youth o’er the crest,
To please mother O’Mine before she rests—
I adore the nourshing O her breast.
■—Julious C. Hill, Ac. ’27.
room. I fear evil of flunking, though my
jacks are with me; no A’s or B’s ever com
fort me. She preparest to send me home
in the presence of the whole student body;
she anointest my paper with zeros, my cup
of sorrow runneth over. Surely if this situa
tion follow me all the days of my life. I
will dwell in the bug-house forever.
Why Cry? Why sigh?—Nobody cares,
Then wipe away your flow of tears,
Stand up, ignore as others do
Misfortunes hand which clutches you;
Wipe off your tears, fight off your snares;
Don’t cry or sigh, for if you die—
—Grady Farley, Ac. ’25.