Hawkeye . nd Dawson stretched at full lengthon the rug before the fire, toasting himself. Throwingaside his coat and hat and filling his pipe very slowlyand carefully, Stewart leaned against the fireplace andtried to blow smoke rings through one another. L,ook-ing down at Billy half asleep and comfortable, heasked Youre pretty contented arent you? Feel pretty good, dont you? Say, Billy,were lobsters, you and I. Whats the matter with you now? asked Dawson sleepily. Oh nothing. A little mucker by the name of Van Auster from the East has wonher out. Reginald Van Auster—Reggie for short. He says B
Hawkeye . nd Dawson stretched at full lengthon the rug before the fire, toasting himself. Throwingaside his coat and hat and filling his pipe very slowlyand carefully, Stewart leaned against the fireplace andtried to blow smoke rings through one another. L,ook-ing down at Billy half asleep and comfortable, heasked Youre pretty contented arent you? Feel pretty good, dont you? Say, Billy,were lobsters, you and I. Whats the matter with you now? asked Dawson sleepily. Oh nothing. A little mucker by the name of Van Auster from the East has wonher out. Reginald Van Auster—Reggie for short. He says Bah Jove and JustFahncy. I met him over there tonight. Been engaged for two years—easy money. Billy sat up straight and dropped his pipe out of his mouth. Gradually his look ofsurprised changed to a foolish grin. At last he burst forth Good Lord—And they callit Reggie—How are you Ted? Billy youre dead easy. Reggie? Good Lord! Reggie? say Stewart chuck me down some more tobacco. —George E. Remi^ D aL w n V (Awarded the gold medal offered by the Hawkeye Board for the best short poem.) Theres a tremulous stillness, a mystical g-limmer,Theres the call of a bird through the forests arcade,And a star in the east flashing pale in the the fingers of Dawn on Nights curtain are laid. Ah, the night brings oblivion, rest, and nepenthe!With its shadows so soothing, its stillness so sweet;But its calm has no power like the thrill that is sent thee,When the pulse of the worlds just beginning to beat. Dreary shadows of yesterday fade in the the mists are dispelled at the touch of the Hope rises free in the joy of the dawning,When with rose-glow and bird-song, glad day is begun. —MabeIv a. Rundell. D r e m s I. Dreams, dreams for me after the days dull drowse, After the sunsets vivid crimsoning. In the clear grayness of the twilight, rouse The quiet birds, and stirring softly sing. So sing mv dreams to me. II. Dreams, dreams for me, after the s
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectunivers, bookyear1902
