. The Rotunda . eCollege of Architecture and head de-singer for Paramount studios;. Both consist in a coordinationof the mind and body and .successin either one depends upon individ-ual initiative. Art and architecturehave their precedent and football hasits .sy., but as soon as one isoverworked it becomes monotonousand uninteresting, he stated. —Southern California Daily Trojan. MARCH WIND March wind, O March wind. Why dont you answer when I plead With you to Play with me? Why do you angi-ily Ioar at me And harshly drive me around? Not one kind word you say. O March wind, youre
. The Rotunda . eCollege of Architecture and head de-singer for Paramount studios;. Both consist in a coordinationof the mind and body and .successin either one depends upon individ-ual initiative. Art and architecturehave their precedent and football hasits .sy., but as soon as one isoverworked it becomes monotonousand uninteresting, he stated. —Southern California Daily Trojan. MARCH WIND March wind, O March wind. Why dont you answer when I plead With you to Play with me? Why do you angi-ily Ioar at me And harshly drive me around? Not one kind word you say. O March wind, youre angry. But maybe when .spring comes, Youll gently caress me And love of yore! A, E, v., 35 At the time when the League ofNations was being organized, an Irishstales man declared: The Leaguewould make the world safe for hy-pocrisy. The passage of time hassiiown that that .statesman was right. At last the great American mid-dle is wakins up, says a maga-zine writer. Yes, but it has CONTENTMENT Contentments made of little things,A doves soft-whirring silver wings,The scene of rose leaves in a crystal shining of a star,Six yellow tulips hi a peace and quietness of fresh, clean scent of new-turned seedlings in a milk-weed isnt far awayProm those who love and search and pray. Dorothy Kinmble ASSURANCE Men said that every dream wouldturn to dust, And dear illusions .shatter on lifeswheel That I would know the worm, themoth, the iirst. And in my warm, young heart, thedead years feel. Oh, Fools! to think one broken dreamenough To rend all beauty. Pain may tear Ihe heart, but love is made of stern-er stuff, Enduring time, and all times wear. Anna Mezquida FOLLY Long years ago I loked into the future. An utterly absurd thing to do— Yet. all of us, at times are guilty. I pictured for £elf A life filled with happiness— Love, joy, success. What utter- fools we are— I should have known That, rarely
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