Regis College - Ranger Yearbook (Denver, CO)

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September hear them rustling in the dark, And etched against the moon, I see them weirdly dancing — hark! Their dance is over soon. The noise I hear this autumn night Has a sharp and crackling sound: And skeletons are dry and light, And they rattle on the ground. They dreamed the summer days away, Secure in their delight; Content in idleness to sway, In a soft and velvet flight. But death is here, and how they dance, In fear of what will be! Chattering harsh in the moons glance, On a wind-tossed autumn tree. PAGE THIRTEEN

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October All night the west wind roared among the trees. A starless night, no moon, clouds black and low: A night to meditate on death, disaster, woe. Strange, ominous sound! I thought on rain-lashed seas. Whipped into fury by the maddened breeze — Leaping in mountains, row on mighty row, Upon black cliffs, their grim and ancient foe: Breaking of ships, men drowning on their knees. Thunderous hoofs of foam-flecked, flying steeds, War-chariots smoking at their flashing feet, The clash of armies. These the tameless night Gave life again. I dreamed of perilous deeds, Wars, darkness, falling men. . . . Then woke to greet A quiet morn, calm trees, and peaceful light. PACE FIFTEEN $