T h e A n s w e r e d C a l l

by George Elliott Cooley.

TAR-DUST awhirl in a vortex,

The infinite moving through all;

Called to the soul of the atoms;

And the Pleiades answered the call!

Thus on the earth when our souls thrill,

We gather in groups at the call;

It’s yearning for love that impels us,

It’s the Infinite moving through all.

TRUE TRANSMUTATION

In this world there are people scrambling for coin;

There are others, we know, who are seeking for fame.

All will-o’-the-wispers seem eager to join

In this harassing, harrowing, hectoring game.

But missing Dame Fortune, they sit down and moan,

And oft grumble because through their fingers she flits:

They should dig for the tramp’s philosopher’s stone:

“I can’t git what I wants, so I take what I gits.”

Drawn by Charles W. Kahles.

The Annual Dinner.