There was a mountain made of fire, Far in the sea— It was very nice to everybody that lived in that world. Right over in Japan, it was. Where there are very good fighters and painters, And very good little children, And very good minders in that world. Kathleen (after seeing _Kathleen ni Houlihan_) She looked very, very old when she came in. The mother and the father that were in the house. Had one brother in the house, The other one had gone out And got all the England people away For Kathleen, For Kathleen, And then said, _He shall be remembered forever_. She was a young woman when she went out, And she sang when she went out the door. The moon shines at night When all are in bed, And the dear little birdies sing for you In the morning time to wake you sure. How lovely the day is— The moon shines against my heart— I love the sweetness of the sky. The beautiful day comes every morning true. Miss Ungerich’s Japanese Play Eyes all blackened, lips made beautiful, Lavender under, then red over for the costume, Acted wonderfully with her hands fixed all the time, Bare feet, then on to the floor, She made a thing that was beautiful. Next was a man with a sword, He acted the same way with her face. Brown—gold costume, then a hat she wore, Then a sort of stick-sword; Then she did moving of hands and killing. She was pretending, but there was only one actor, Miss Ungerich. The Snow Flakes In the winter I saw the loveliest sky that you ever saw. It was blue and pink and yellow and orange and white and black and grey. That was the colors of the sky. It pleased me so that I went and sat down. You must think of life and the poor that war makes. _Done by Alice Oliver Henderson, Miss._ Fire Castles Fast falling rain and every hill in mist Make even my very saddest thoughts grow sadder, And every sad thought lengthens my long list, As, moaning over old things that make me madder, I sit and sulk over some unkind word And weep as if I had not wept before, And think of words about me I have heard, And with old thoughts grieve over them some more. But soon, if I get up, or sit and gaze, Telling myself stories of joyous thought Before the warm and cheery, singing blaze, Now all my bad thoughts in a trap are caught; And if I gaze at castles in the fire, Then all the while to gladness I grow nigher. The Unknown Race O dream, what are you?— A fairy or a sprite, A goddess in the air, Or just a flash of light? A sudden flash of joy That brightens up my mind, Till wonders I see now Where first I was so blind.