"Hawthorne's Wonder Book", and later became absorbed in Greek myths. Fred was very much upset at being found one morning pouring over "The Child's Book of Verse", and chanting, actually chanting, "The Skylark” aloud. The second summer Jones increased the amount of poetry learned and gave them harder tasks. Strangely enough they began to be curious as to rhyme and metre. They discovered the poetry contest in St. Nicholas and all summer there was the undercurrent of the determination to try. Jones kept quiet and thought he would await developments. One morning he gave them both a written test. Fred was asked to give his favorite author and to write a paragraph in imitation of him. They had been reading "The Wind in the Willows". The following resulted. "Kenneth Graham writes beautiful descriptions about the fields, valleys, lakes and rivers. He also writes interesting books." Then the imitation: "The field mouse came out of his little house and the cool breezes puffed his gray fur up in little hills. Around to the right he saw the bubbling river and Mr. Beaver building a dam for a swimming pool." Jones had asked Frank to give his four favorite poets, and to describe the style of each. The result exceeded his wildest expectations. The boy did not only what he was asked to do, but gave rhymed couplets to illustrate his points. Here is the paper "Browning wrote snappy poetry. Boom, boom, the cannons are firing, Shelley wrote nice soft poetry. A soft fleecy cloud floated over the moon, Wordsworth wrote beautiful descriptions. But here the voice of a thrush is ringing." The masterpiece, however, was the parody of Kipling which morally, as well as poetically, I am afraid is a trifle mature. "I went into a public house as softly as could be, Then up and spoke a pretty girl, 'Come take a walk with me soon,' Later in the summer they both produced poems. Fred's was the more childish, and was, with the exception of one line stolen quite baldly from Noyes, less imitative. It was called "The Turn in the Road". "I have seen and so will you, Yellow violets and orchids blue, But you must go down to the turn in the road "There you will find green willow trees With their branches swaying in the soft cool breeze "But should you go there on a starlit night When the narrow road's like a ribbon of white, These boys probably will not write poetry-that is a matter of divine control; but at least they will come to college with a working vocabulary, and the courage to write what they think. If an attempt is made to develop in every boy and girl in the country a creative imagination, in a few years we may be producing a national poetry that is worth while. Well and good! But what is far more important, we may be taking a step towards an approximation of national literacy. FURROWS. I never stumble through a new-ploughed field J. Farrar. Of blossoms battered, and with wounds unhealed With spider webs her wounds sweet nature binds. A MUTED STRING. William Douglas. The sullen cliffs loom tall and still, The red moon starts her wrinkling path The new stars tremble into place, The shy waves falter in the light, Philip J. Q. Barry. MEMORABILIA YALENSIA. Hockey Scores. Yale, 7; Colgate, 3. Yale, 5; Mass. Aggies, 3. Yale, 8; Mass. Inst. of Tech., 1. Yale, 1; Dartmouth, 2. Yale, 3; St. Nicholas, 2. Basketball Scores. Yale, 19; Princeton, 20. Yale, 33; Columbia, 27. Yale, 25; Princeton, 20. The Elizabethan Club Announced the election of the following members: Prof. Thomas D. Goodell, '77; John L. Schoolcraft, Arthur C. Crunden, 1918; Robert McClure, 1918; Dwight D. Wiman, 1918 S.; John F. Carter, Jr., 1919; Thomas R. Coward, 1919. Junior Fraternity Elections. Delta Kappa Epsilon: Robert Campbell Paradise, 1918, of Boston, Mass. The University Dramatic Association Elected A. C. Crunden, 1918, president, and Dwight D. Wiman, 1918 S., vice-president, for the coming year. The Ten Eyck Prize Was awarded to John Martin Vorys, 1918. ERITOR'S TABLE. THE END OF THE COMP. Here's to you of the Chase: If you won Take the cup, and drink long. If you lost It is hard, but we know Your blood is true blue-you were strong. They're off! And shivering turf Thuds loud to the hoof-beats' sharp ring Post and rail A splintering crash And the field rushes by in full swing. Heads up Shortened stride and a leap And the water jump glitters beneath. Safe beyond With green meadows ahead And the grey takes the bit in his teeth. "Gone away!", Shouts the rider in green, Your whip answers what he has said. One more fence Over clean, and away Where the finish flag flutters ahead. Blood and spurs. Merely yards to the end, Glistening necks and nostrils of fire, Rawhide cuts, Steel is cold in the flesh, But a Thoroughbred quits PAST the wire. |