Williams College - Gulielmensian Yearbook (Williamstown, MA)

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IIUIV IIUULWENSIANII IEVWI We who have hearkcned your voice-sensation, Till our souls reel drunk with our pulses' beating. is our tribute---our adoration, that we dance while the night is iieeting, we give for the gifts you have brought us, for the gifts of roses and wine, for Nepenthe, and Lethe and lotus- This This This This This We who are drugged with your anodyne. We have made an end to the gods that we prayed to, We have forgotten their pagcantried 11L11T1bC1'S, We, whose ancient passions once made you, Wake you this night from your passionless slumbers, Wake you with song and with dancing and feting, Wine of the vineyard and garden's red bloom. Ah, have you waited as we have been waiting There in the dusk of your silent tomb? is ff :sf sw :sf We have been bowed to the Carpentcr's Son, Pressing our lips to his garment's hem, Mammon and Buddah--Ah, one by one We have gilded our idols and shattered them. Yet I think that none of them ever have died For the soul of man has a thousand creeds, And the soul is not proud with the body's pride- Our needs have sought them, our poor 1'l1C1TlYS needs, And each of the Gods has a shrine for man Where his soul may bow as the moment slips, Man's soul whose freedom is greater than The broken faith he swears with his lips. So to-night it is not we have wakened you sleeping, But we have spoken your praise aloudg Oh, we were weary of weeping, and weeping, Our souls were weary of being bowed, So we came to you-lover with weary lover, For your long slim throat, and your blue vcined breast For the dusk where your slumbrous eyelids hover, It is best, perhaps, in the end-it is best. ak Pk if wk wk 32 7

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lfxZ,Ill lluuLlrLnrNslANlI IIWlI Man, we are told, is endowed with Certain unalienable rights. Among these we should inelude,-restricting them to reasonable limits-, the privilege of wear- ing such clothes as he pleases, of decorating his 1' ace with whatsoever expression his spirit wills, and of forming whatever opinions his nature determines. Shall we ostraeize a man for the Cut of his coat, which departs a trifle from the normal Williams garment. or for his three-inch-smile, which varies two centimeters from the Conventional W'VllllZ11'llS expression? A more broad-minded attitude towards one's associates, a smaller amount of trivial eritieism directed against individuality, and less fervent worship of the demi- god , Public Opinion, would make life at Williztiiis f ar more wholesome-free and un- constrained. LIAMIES PIIINNIEY BAXTIER, Ilrd williams literary jlllluntblp, Jfehruarp, 1914 Gfarnihal ,Wight Qt bong to Qpbruhitc We who have seorned you are done with the seorningg We crawl to your fair white feet to-night. lXfIorning may bring the Gods of the morningg These are your hours and your old delight. Aphrodite, white bosemed and slender, Coral and ivory earven slim, , lt is to you that we make surrender Never remembering Him. Creed of the beautiful sensuous form, Creed of the dancing soul that forgets, l-lere, where desire is a blinding storm That no man battles, that none regretsg Here, in the blindness to aeons of morrows After the lapse of the dragging years, While the weary face of the Man of Sorrows, Whose eyes peer dim, through a mist of tears, ls forgotten before the light of your splendor, The light of your careless, carnal face We render you what you would have us render, Y outh's red lips, and youth's mad young grace. ill

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Iwfml lluuufmfwsllwll lrmnl It is over-the night with its dazzle of faces- It is grown as gray as the lips of the dead. The dancers are gone from their shining places, There is red on the floor-spilled wine's dull red. There is only one girl of them all who lingers Here in abandon's ruins-dumb, Her rouged face hid by her frightened fingers- The dawn of the Galilean is come. CHARLES WILLIAM BRACKETT The iBurpIe Qtutn, Jfehruarp, 1914 Q Vacation Zincihent Mildred and I were eloping together. The word sang through my brain in a sort of refrain, as I sat at the wheel of the automobile: Eloping, eloping, elopingf' I had always wanted to elope, ever since early childhood. So had Mildred. It was another example of how perfectly we were fitted for one another. In the tonneau of the car lay various articles belonging to Mildred's trousseau. There was a white veil, and some artificial-orange blossoms, and a pair of slippers. They were all we could bring in our haste. They were covered with a sheet. The sheet blew off, and then they were covered with dust. Under the seat lay a silk hat and a frock coat. They were not covered with dust. They did not belong to Mildred, far from it! The dusty road stretched before us. It also stretched behind us, and was even more dusty thereg but as Kipling says, that is a wholly extraneous narrative. Twenty-five miles of it fthe road, not the narrative, thank Heavenj had to be cov- ered before we reached the little church where we were to be married. Mildred had picked out that church long ago as the place for her wedding. She had even spoken about it to a few of my predecessors. She liked it because the graveyard wasn't visible from the road. We had been driving for about ten minutes when Mildred rose dramatically. Reader, if you have evcr tried to rise dramatically in a moving automobile on a typical American country road, you will know how I admired the girl for her ex- ploit. She had time to point far up the road we had traversed before a thank- you-mann brought her to with all sails flying. It was pretty to see her sit down suddenly like that. Everything she does is so graceful! 33