Haverford College - Record Yearbook (Haverford, PA)

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iloubag ICunrI) 3lnsptrattou This inspiring poem was written by a member of our Class. It is an inspired poem on an inspiring subject. Hill Hep Hep Living the step Over the gleaming sand Twinkle the waves Whose water laves The wood lake ' s peaceful strand. The delightful Hep. Hep, Hep. of the first line shows how inspiring such a simple thing can be. When you read the second line and catch the meter, go back and read the Hep, Hep, Hep all over again. You will have to do it fast to make it rime. You see, this poem is a fast poem — almost breath- less. Twinkle the wave. ;. What a refreshing line is TiriukU- the wares! Supposing it were The leaves twinkle — how much ditt ' erent that would be. Then the next line would have to end with binkle or dinkle. Pensonally we prefer T ir inkle the wares because it brings in the word oc(s, and lares is such a nice word. For instance it would not be polite to tell a man to wa. ' th his feet, — but nobody would mind having to lave his feet. A clean man laves twice a day. A lave room is a bath room, hence the soft sound of s in the word lavatory, as in scissors. Wild in the wood Sparkles the blood Home-planning ' ncath the bltic The wood r.hnck digs Crackle the twigs As we pass n-here the wood doves coo, 129

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discovered. We venture to quote it, with proper acknowledgments, as a bit of allegorical advice to all sprouting authors whose ambitions have not yet been nipped in the bud. Why, Cow, how canst thou be so satisfied. So well content with all things here below, So unobtrusive and so sleepy-eyed. So meek, so lazy and so awful slow? Dost thou not know that everything is mixed; That nothing ' s as it should be on this earth; That grievously the world needs to be fixed; That nothing we can give has any worth ; That times are hard; that strife is full of care Of sin, of trouble and untowardness; That love is folly, friendship but a snare? Up, Cow! This is no time for laziness. The end thou chewest is not what it seems. Get up and moo! Tear ' round and quit thy dreams. P. S. Are you a cow? [Mount Holyoke.] 128

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Ah now, quit that. Really it is embarrassing to criticise such a poem. Did you ever see the blood sparkling in the wood? Snood would be a better word than blood. Blood and wood don ' t rime anyways. And a snood is so much better because a snood is what a girl ties up her hair with to keep it on straight. A pink snood would be a better color than blood — more delicate, and you can wash — I mean lave it with gasoline when it gets dirty. The woodchuck digs is a pretty line and very inspiring. Keep on digging old woodchuckie and vou ' ll get there. Now any man who is not poetic in his soul would rime something about pigs with this line. But this is the real inspired poetry. No Peruna in this. Pigs wash. — they do not lave, and so they don ' t get a look-in on this poem. Guinea pigs might, but the word guinea is an anapest sylla- ble, and we need a dactyl. Siveet guinea pigs might do if there were no music in your soul. As u ' c pass where wood doves coo — come on now, do you notice that first person plural? There is a woman in this somewhere. Our own critical instinct about the snood shows this, and notice that v ' ord home-planning in the third line. I knew a man who had wood doves. He fed them salted peanuts once and they didn ' t coo after that — they croaked. Here there is calm Brought with the balm Borne from the bending pines Veiled in mist By green leaves kist Mellow the soft sun shines. This poem resembles a slot machine. Every time you bite off a piece there is something to chew on. Here there is calm — how much better that is than Here there is balm. The balm comes from the pine trees, do you get that? Balm is a species of liniment. Balm is the real article, no antiphlogis- tine or New Jersey mud. Balm is sort of slippery elm. Ask for Balm the next time you go to the barber shop — it will make you feel like writing a poem on Inspiration. By green leaves kist. Green leaves don ' t grow on pine trees but the author of this poem is above finicky points. This is called poetic license. Kist is the important word here. The author was cer- tainly slow if he let the green leaves kiss that kid with the snood tied around her head. Never let any- thing like that get by or they will know you are from Philadelphia. Kist is the new acoustic way of 130