• Author:
• Editor: Cullen, Robert F.
• Newspaper: The Eastern Echo volume 6
• Page Number:
• Date: 09 Fall 1961
• Tags:
• poetry

TRUTH by John J. Berry

Man has longer walked with Falsehood Than he ever strolled with Truth, So the lovely new companion Leaves him often mute. But though reticent his courtship, Charge him not for being shy; Rather say he is still longing for that lucious trollop Lie.

HOPE by Henry Sliva

It is the balm that helps to heal despair, The silent prayer of those who can not pray; A subtle blade with which none lightly play, Possessing it the timed bodily fare to meet the problems of each newer day. Like some sweet melody it whiles away the time of those imprisoned everywhere; With deepest misery it strives to cope. Such is this strange mysterious force called Hope.

JOHN MACDOUGAL by Henry Sliva

Old John MacDougal (may his tribe all freeze!) Awoke himself one night with his own sneeze, And saw within the room made partly light by moonbeams dancing on the velvet night, a shadow going through his guilts. Now prudence counselled, “Stay beneath the quilts.” But some innate trait layed such counsel dead, As John MacDougal rese up high and said, “Hold There’ The burglar quickly turned his head, And answered back with such a thundering roar, It knocked MacDougal’s wife from bed to floor, “Shut up, or I will send you both to hell!” But John MacDougal’s loved one took a spell, and let forth such a screech, that in a word, Each sleeping cop in town that night had heard. The burglar vanished and not through the door, but out the window of the second floor, and landed down below an awful wreck— The ground hit him so hard it broke his neck, And when the cops and neighbors gathered hence, They saw MacDougal’s wife had lost her sense, As it was plain that she had gone stark mad, All turned to see what loot the burglar had; And all there gasped for when the search was spent, They found on him but one bright copper cent.