Fredericksburg College - Quips and Quibbles Yearbook (Fredericksburg, VA)

Page 98 text:

Page 90 QUIPS AND QUIBBLES The Aspen Leaf heads above ground with bold assurance that winter was past. Birds were mating. Blossoms lent fragrance to the moisture¬ laden air. Life was bursting forth on every hand. A church, a fairy-land of flowers; a priest, in festive robes; a gathering, exuberant with joy. The naturalist, the butterfly—which was the happier? “ ‘I pronounce you man and wife: Whom God hath joined together let not man put asunder.’ ” A couple inside a rapidly moving carriage- The naturalist looked triumphantly at the butterfly in his arms. “I have caught you at last!” The butterfly fluttered coyly as if to break loose: “Yes, but what a chase I’ve led you.” F. II. S., ’99 A PRAYED The way seemed long and dark, I struggled with the feelings in my heart Which tried to whisper to me, And I bade them from me to depart. The voice of the tempter murmured— And we know sometimes his tone is sweet— “Child, for you the battle is too hard, You can but perish in your sad defeat; Give up the struggle now for aye, Strive not for what you call the good, Make cease the conflict ’gainst the evil. Then you ' ll be happy, as you should.” Thus far I listened and tempted was, Then o ' er me poured a mighty tide Of shame for harkening thus. And yielding to the tempter at my side. And I shook my shoulders settling Beneath their load of care, And with trusting eyes looked upward, Breathing out this heartfelt prayer— “Father, I am thine own servant, Here to do Thy holy will, Look in pity now upon me, Say unto me ‘Peace, be still ' ; And my soul will loose its burden Which just now so great did seem, And ' twill pass into the distance As the memory of some dream. ' ’ Brighter seemed each thing around, And my path was plain before me, As the birds sang up above, And a great, sweet calm came o ' er me. S. T. L., ’02.

Page 97 text:

QUIPS AND QUIBBLES The Aspen Leaf “Eight now—” His hands were taking hold of the butterfly. “May I serve you, sir?” He threw the net at the intruding interloper, and the butterfly started up in alarm. Christmas bells were ringing. Every heart was filled with the echoes of the glad story. Songs of joy were on every lip. Good will was the motive power which turned the wheels of Christendom. And all was merry and bright. She received a present that morning—a little cube of a box. And packed in blue velvet a sparkling gem lay, transforming the light of the one sun into ten thousand miniature sun-bursts. She stood and gazed wistfully, charmed with its splendor, the same old war in her soul. Which would win this time? The smoke of battle broke from her brow, and from those eyes shot forth once more the gleam of mischief and the excitement of the dare. He received a package the next morning—a little cube of a box, and with it a dainty note redolent of violets: “I don’t accept presents of jewelry—except from my brother. Do you remember him this time?” He cursed the whole order of butterflies. A skating rink. The air intoxicating in its very brilliancy. The ice cracking with frostiness. Nature’s bosom hid in a very net work of snow-crystals, gorgeous in unsullied white, reveling in Winter’s embrace. He was glad with the mere joy of living; she with cheeks Page 89 aglow, tell-tale spots betraying the Wind’s kiss. “Won’t you promise?” “I won’t promise any such thing—I won’t, I won’t.” “Why, that don’t mean anything—I won’t make you obey. You just say so.” “You won’t make me promise to obey! Thank you. Have you ever tried to make me do anything I didn’t want to do?’ ’ “Only once!’ ’ “But you said at Easter; Easter’s just two months off.” “I will be ready tomorrow.” “The man I’m looking for would have said ‘I am ready this moment.’ ” “I am ready this very moment.” “Oh, no, you old parrot!” “No, not a parrot, but a phonograph playing from the record of the sweetest tones ever sung. ’ ’ “My, how smoothly that comes! To how many women have you sighed that out before?” “What smoothness that possesses comes from its repetition again and again as it rings through my head as I ponder over those sweet tones. ’ ’ A slight tremor, and silence for a moment: “You frighten me. I want to go home. Take my skates off ” “You might be more gracious in making your command.” ‘ ‘Take niv skates off. ’ ’ “Won’t you say please?” “No, but I will call the attendant unless you take my skates off right now.” He stooped and unbuckled the skates. “ ‘Love, honor and obey’; yes, you will obey me. The naturalist cleared his whole cabinet of all old specimens. All the space was needed for one beautiful new butterfly. Nature had awakened. Things were growing. Buds were swelling in excess of fullness. Flowers were putting their

Page 99 text:

Page 91 Q UIP S AND QUIBBLES Shall I compare thee to the rose, One of the loveliest flowers that blows? That nods its head with queenly air And than which there is none more fair? But on its stem there is a thorn By which my hand is deeply torn As I try to capture the lovely prize. And I listen as the south wind sighs And softly in sorrow creeps away, For he has wooed her many a day, Since from a little bud she grew Beneath the summer skies so blue; But at him smiled she in disdain As oft he came again and again. When close he came to whisper his love, As soft as the cooing of a dove, Back sprang he with a start; S. T. L., ’02. Of a sudden he felt a smart— The cruel thorn had torn his heart! And you were fairer than any flower That ever graced a lady’s bower. And joyfully you smiled when you saw my pain, But let me come again and again. And when I ventured to tell my love And hoped for rapture like that above, And thought how I ' d press you to my heart, Of a sudden I, too, felt a smart; For you answered me only with words of scorn Which were sharper than ever rose ' s thorn.