~Wtt&1 - - Hoover Library

Art is long they sayAnd the time is fleeting tooGuess I'll try Haiku.On my window paneFeathery filigree of frostAll cannot be lost.Greens have turned to brownAutmn winds are colder, tooMust you say adieu?Many minds were thereEach one tried with carbon toolsTo carve a diamond.M. R. G:, '23Peeping little flowerSun Elicits warm aboveFrozen tingling feet.Exasperating fiy.He bangs my sensitive cheek.I close my fluttering eye.Little straining leaf,Clutching brown mother branch.Must let go so soon.Romaine C. DusmanYellow, red, brown, greenComes Spring, Summer, Winter, FallAround and around.Cliff Pfaff, '50marble pillar goto zenith too high to see,but look for me there.still in watchfulnessthe sun splash lingers, a spraywhen todays crackle.slipping silver dovethru velvet black, come on wingsailing on promise.Miohael l doineBefore WinterThese hills around us-Neither cages nor coffins-But autumn's targets.Of what is man made?Dreams, hopes, fears, anguished desire.But at the end-death.Impersonal world,How can I conquer thee?First, conquer myself.Mrs. Edith F. Ridington, special instructor,taught the art of haiku.My wife is a whiz.She can write an ode or rhyme.Surely she'll win a quiz.W. V. AlbaughLittle One, laugh long-Dance, play, sing a happy tune-Tomorrow, who knows?EvelynWalstonA log snapping fireLicking flames of red and goldAll's quiet within.Lucile M. HolthausThe children are gone.What soul did I reach today?Please, let it be one.Lonely little guyFear clutching his little soul.Smiled at me today.Ruby Y. ChuhranEarnest poets here,Finger counting, pencil chewing_Autumn gold outside.Edith RidingtonThe early sun slipsbelow a smoky purple ridge:false Catoctin.Early gray of dawn ..Heralded by Nippon's son,Rises the cornet!Twenty brash poets,Gathered from hither and yon.Scribbling in mad hastelA March wind blowsand leans against my back:The street slopes away.Mr. Keith M. Richwine, assistant professor of English, was part of the cmativewriting workshop.Leaves earth-bound look back-Naked trees return tne gazeForlorn and wanting.page eleven