Newspapers / Gardner-Webb University Student Newspaper / Dec. 1, 1953, edition 1 / Page 14
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LITERARY "IDEALISM" Traveling down life’s road, We leave our footprints there. Some are deep, others shallow, According to burdens we bear. Somewhere back along the road A stranger may follow our trail. Will we lead him into Heaven, Or will we lead him on to Hell? Go slow, my brother, down life’s road. Be careful of the steps you take. If not for your own safety. Then for the stranger’s sake. To My Friends JOHN ELLIOTT To Mary Not often but now I weep, my Mary For no voice could a song so sweetly sing For you to hear with ears unseen, If even my very own so magic was As floats from beyond imagined sea. The enchanted anthem of faeries in love With prince who rides on prancing steed Too far from hearing, and in distance is lost. I fear that in trying to speak a thanks so great, Intelligence will be lost in the shrieks Of a wild ecstacy from pleasures strange. And unexpressed except within. Then in gladness harmonious. So unrestrained am I drawn to the calm excitement Of your unseen self. Not by my senses As the lungs feel the enchantment of Gardenia sweet. But as is felt in silent rapture A comfort of companionship. When pages of priceless lore yeild Gratification to empassioned spiritual quest. Many worlds of thought divine have we explored With even more a zeal to behold in reality Their soil or sandy shore, Than that which expressed was by shouts of glee From parched throats of desperate sailors And master Columbus, when flickerings Beckoned from suspicioned India’s shore. And invited discovery of new land, and new life. In positive reality have we drunk of De Leon’s spring With not the vanity in which the draft he took, But in desire to preserve the force that moves unnamed, And causes all things good to be said and done. Oh, fleeting eloquence! Oh, desperation! Words, silent utterances, or songs to insensible volume Could not of this union speak . . . It is all, and everything . . . It exists . . . All else is superfluity. To James Hanill Inspirer, interpreter, companion, friend. Aye, brother in greater kin. Than blood can boast Not as to external scenes. We, in life ourselves relate. But, rather, as to that eternal union. That feels the soul’s transient dwelling When dissolved among the constant calm Of nature’s unshaken bosom. Inspirer to sensation, thought aye, tears From across concealing barrier, mystic nebulous, yon spheres Remote to touch, yet near. No such closeness as makes tangible The spun halo of companion in shadow Where quivering lip. or hand clutches with violence. But the closeness of nectar or ambrosia By fays, numberless, woven to visibility, alone, Beneath gleam sprinkled leaves in April Sherwood Interpreter of mood or impressioi dynamic, aye akin to thunder Yet gentle as is leaf from mother branch torn asunder. To fall, yet rest. Not repose that colors feel when on canvas You spread their hues to eternal rainbows. But rest that enraptures the touch, When expression of sights the soul has viewed Flows forth, as rises the liquid talk Of bubbling spring, as if laughing elf Beneath did carol praise to all creation. Companion to my steps in hurried walk, aye frightened Haste to destination, unk -.own. as comet flies in space Unguided, yet aglow . Not with shouted demand for all eyes Universal to behold ethereal flight. Not even with gentle whisper to in tender tones Insinuate journey, apart from swept multitude, But with invisible presence, unspoken. Yet felt to inner tangibility. Friend to all who reach for helpful aye, redeeming hand. When marshes of desperation in mire and sand. Hold securely, yet uncertain. Redemption not from trivia. Matters, Which are the children of nothingness. For lost as is shell on barren sands, conspicuous. Is all, save eternal. When sweeping tide of truth is given command by his breath. Resounding torrent of universe-supporting soul. Aye, brother in greater kin than blood can boast. To Peter In pathetic awe among Grccian glory wanders his dream. Whispering secret hope of returning to antique year Where lived in the rosy vigor of playful child. Unconquered wisdom’s search and undarkling gleam. As that followed in perfect trust with triumphant tear By ageless mariner in northern sky, joyfully unbeguiled. In flowing drapery of ancient day, clothe thy inquisitive And in numbersess page of countless book, give Muse the wing. To Plato, extend the pursuing hand after the perfect good. As reaches the youth from aoiled desperation in desire A father’s favor with eager help for crying child to bring After pitiful fall from the confident step where he stood. Ah! My friend, only in escaped shape is it gone. This glory remains our own though tangible absence causes quake. Brilliant marble has crumbled, but no victory has decay When words with the music of truth ring on, As though each universe was a bell, for infinity to shake, And each planet and star as clappers inside did sway. Give thou me your hand, and mine own hold in strengthy grip, As the arms of enamoured lover hold in passion their With the one last faith escaped not from Pandora’s chest. Plunge us our trust in unmeasured lake with unsurfaced dip As falls from cliff to deepest depth in sea, the greatest stone And there lie it forever in bathed eternal rest. In conclusion, may we remind you that your contribu tions to the literary department of the PILOT are welcomed. Composition may be submitted personally to the editors or may be addressed to the Gardner-Webb Department of English, Gardner-Webb College. Finally, appreciation is given to those persons who responded to our solicitation for specified issues of the PILOT which were absent from the library files.
Gardner-Webb University Student Newspaper
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Dec. 1, 1953, edition 1
14
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