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THE ATHENAEUM 171 TO E- 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. OBLIVION 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. there 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 Paraphrase 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 TO MOTHER O’mother O’Mine 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. NOBODY CARES 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— Nobody cares. —Grady Farley, Ac. ’25.