Newspapers / Mars Hill University Student … / April 1, 1949, edition 1 / Page 17
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T T 4,4.4.4.4.4.4.+4.4.+++++++++4"l-'M'++++++'l-+'l-+4”t+++4"l"l”t4-'l”i"i"l-'l”i"l- ^^0 Qifcie S4AUHXf4,*Uf in tUe> I threw some dried, stale crusts of bread Out on the snow beneath my sill, And thought may passing birds be fed. For my wastebox the bread would fill. ® With no more thought I turned to And bake my cakes until out there I heard the creak of stiff-laid snow. And saw some hungry hounds appear. They nuzzled wild and gulped each piece. Then loped away to sniff for more; When sounds of hounds had come to cease. Three hares crept from the for est floor. I swing in the night. And my crude rope swing is A curved stroke from a comet’s brush. I swing in the night, • And my dark hair becomes willowy Wisteria tresses. I swing in the night. And my calico skirt is A queen’s nuptial gown. I swing in the night. And my toes brush an aqua star. -Betty Gene Sanders. a Qn>aum 74fi Pn>d4fe^ When I was only three. ^o-niffpuL in The rabbits nibbling in the frost Were spied by dogs as food to eat. The hounds leaped fast, the fur was tossed. They drank the blood, in tri umph neat. Thus bread gave life, and life brought death; So what’s the gain if life does kill? ^hy should I waste my bread and breath? I’ll let my wastebox overfill. —Janice Aiken. My mamma used to kneel with me. And we would pray At the end of the day: ‘Now I lay me down to sleep; pray thee. Lord, my soul keep. If I should die before I wake, pray thee. Lord, my soul take.” I to Little flower, cup of gold. Aren’t you being rather bold Thus to flaunt your bright array On this chilly winter’s day? I to -and ten. I’ve said since Now I am eight- Many a prayer then. Yet still I pray In the midst of the fray: “Now I lay me down to sleep .. . There you’re blooming on the grass. Nodding gaily as I pass; Dauntless, as you greet the sun. In the briefness of life’s run. I’ve outgrown the prayer? No, my friend— I am just beginning To comprehend. —Betty Gene Sanders. Yours will be a short stay here At this season of the year; But you’ve filled my heart with love For all the earth and heaven above. Just a tiny golden flower. But your coming at this hour Makes me smile, and smiling greet All the people that I meet. J^i(^ £(Uace The Sun relaxes in her cushioned chair. And Evening walks into the darkening sky. All is tranquil, save the throbbing in my breast; For my disquieted heart is not at rest. Little flower, cup of gold. Now your secret has been told; “Life is short, not here to stay. So make folks happy while we may.” —Ila Graham. My mind, confused, seeks hard to free itself From loathsome care and dire despondency That penetrate the depths of every weary thought. Can no escape be found for minds distraught? Yet, as I lie in deep and bruised despair. Night slips a soothing pillow ’neath my head; My fevered brow is touched by fingers cool and kind. And peace, at last, seeps through my restless mind. —Emma Carol Gandy. Life is like a pond in summer. Even when storm winds ripple the water, the light of the Sun can transform the ripples into crystals with facets of loveliness. —Betty Sanders. HILLTOP—PAGE SEVENTEEN '• Ueorge w. ijreeiie, proies- oueei jaapusi, v.iiiurcu wui ue nosi, i social science at Catawba church for the meeting. Mr. Leon- Banquets to be held on campus within the near future are: Pub- York. Id al Bi ollegc Jng I The 1 :s A LCia Jam Har tnsey, gell, Aike: Saptii ersitj 3. spea E. 3tary lie’s ssee. I coll resei Disi nferi he T ;he E >nvei ment ■ the be a wou )0. A 3tud£ icil. , B.S as un( sed I grc k ai :s He w s their iring in X ar Mo] I Gc 3 CO ted hel rh, . dms sun ihoo
Mars Hill University Student Newspaper
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April 1, 1949, edition 1
17
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