Praised be the gods that made my spirit mad; Kept me aflame and raw to beauty's touch. Lashed me and scourged me with the whip of fate; Gave me so often agony for mate; Tore from my heart the things that make men glad-- Praised be the gods! If I at last, by such Relentless means may know the sacred bliss, The anguished rapture of an hour like this. Smite me, O Life, and bruise me if thou must; Mock me and starve me with thy bitter crust, But keep me thus aquiver and awake, Enamoured of my life for living's sake! _This were the tragedy_--that I should pass, Dull and indifferent through the glowing grass. And this the reason I was born, I say-- That I might know the passion of this day! ANGELA MORGAN COLUMBINES Late were we sleeping Deep in the mold, Clasping and keeping Yesterday's gold-- Hoardings of sunshine, Crimson and gold; Dreaming of light till our dream became Aureate bells and beakers of flame,-- Splashed with the splendor of wine of flame. Raindrop awoke us; Zephyr bespoke us; Chick-a-dee called us, Bobolink called us,-- Then we came. ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE MORNING-GLORY Was it worth while to paint so fair Thy every leaf--to vein with faultless art Each petal, taking the boon light and air Of summer so to heart? To bring thy beauty unto perfect flower, Then, like a passing fragrance or a smile, Vanish away, beyond recovery's power-- Was it, frail bloom, worth while? Thy silence answers: "Life was mine! And I, who pass without regret or grief, Have cared the more to make my moment fine, Because it was so brief. "In its first radiance I have seen The sun!--why tarry then till comes the night? I go my way, content that I have been Part of the morning light!" FLORENCE EARLE COATES THE BLOSSOMY BARROW Antonio Sarto ees buildin' a wall, But maybe he nevva gon' feenish at all. Eet sure wonta be Teell flower an' tree An' all kinda growin' theengs sleep een da Fall.