The Yale Literary Magazine, Volume 82Yale Literary Society, 1916 |
Contents
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15 BROAD STREET ALFRED RAYMOND BELLINGER artist asked AVENUE beauty blue Brooks Brothers Business Manager Chapel Street charm Chi Delta Theta cigarette Class Clothes COLEMAN SYSTEM Conn Corinna dance dark door dreams Edith EDITOR'S TABLE EDITORS eyes face Fatimas feel FIVE P. M. friends gazed GEORGES RODENBACH girl hand Harold John Chipman Farrar laughed light Linotype look Mary Ellen MEMORABILIA YALENSIA MERGENTHALER LINOTYPE COMPANY mind moon mother never night NINE A. M. Osborn Hall P. M. IF LEFT Passaic River poet poetry Railroad Romance seemed Seldon silence single number smiled smoke soul Stephen Vincent Benét stood strange Street New Haven STREET NEW YORK Students of Yale thing thought tired trees turned undergraduate voice walked watched WILMARTH SHELDON LEWIS wonder YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE York City
Popular passages
Page 149 - And when ye reap the harvest of your land, thou shalt not wholly reap the corners of thy field, neither shalt thou gather the gleanings of thy harvest. 10 And thou shalt not glean thy vineyard, neither shalt thou gather every grape of thy vineyard ; thou shalt leave them for the poor and stranger : I am the LORD your God.
Page 181 - Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo . . . His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face.
Page 81 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll ! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin, his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Page 104 - Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished! Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes. With gazing fed ; and fancy dies In the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell : I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
Page 181 - I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air — I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath — It may be I shall pass him still. I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear.
Page 102 - WHITE daisies are down in the meadow, And queer little beetles and things, And sometimes nice rabbits and field-mice And black-birds with red on their wings. I want to explore all alone, With nobody spying around, All alone, all alone, all alone! It has such a wonderful sound.
Page 100 - White gleam the gulls across the darkling tide, On the green hills the red flowers seem to burn ; Alas ! I see another spring has died When will it come — the day of my return...
Page 7 - HOW ROSES CAME RED. ROSES at first were white, Till they could not agree, Whether my Sappho's breast Or they more white should be. But, being vanquished quite, A blush their cheeks bespread; Since which, believe the rest, The roses first came red.
Page 155 - The College will reopen Sept — ." Catalogue. I WAS just aiming at the jagged hole Torn in the yellow sandbags of their trench, When something threw me sideways with a wrench, And the skies seemed to shrivel like a scroll And disappear . . . and propped against the bole Of a big elm I lay, and watched the clouds Float through the blue, deep sky in speckless crowds, And I was clean again, and young, and whole. Lord, what a dream that was ! And what a doze Waiting for Bill to come along to class !...
Page 98 - TO A FIREFLY. Rain cannot quench thy lantern's light, Wind makes it shine more brightly bright ; Oh why not fly to heaven afar, And twinkle near the moon— a star ! A VISIT TO THE CLEAR COLD FOUNTAIN.