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Phanny, v. 3, issue 4, Spring 1945
Page 3
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3 PHANNY 3 ENCHANTED FOREST The wood, night-cloaked, is sleeping like a child, And silence reigns where noisy bluejays flew; I lie upon the grass, with dreams beguiled, Mylips kissed by the cool, refreshing dew; I hear the star-dust singing in the trees, I hear the sudden beat of wings in flight-- It is an owl--and I begin with these To weave a dream: the fragrance of the night; The tinkle of a brook, far-off, half-heard; The hooting of the owl, soft as a prayer; The sleep murmur of a roosting bird; The scent of wild-plum blossoms on the air-- Enchanted forest fraught with strange appeal; Dim shadow-world, fantastastic and unreal! --James Russell Gray CHANGELING Across a galaxy the being came, It's car a spot of weirdly pulsing light; And space and time were conquered in its flight, Although it had no goal--nor friends, nor name. It passed by suns that burned with leaping flame-- And other stars there were that glowed blue-white-- Yet always did it speed across the night, And always was its loneliness the same. A product of the mighty cosmic rays, Its form had altered in the depths of space; One who had known this creature in the days When it resembled others of its race And braved the void unshielded, without plan-- Would never guess that this was once a man. --James Russell Gray
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3 PHANNY 3 ENCHANTED FOREST The wood, night-cloaked, is sleeping like a child, And silence reigns where noisy bluejays flew; I lie upon the grass, with dreams beguiled, Mylips kissed by the cool, refreshing dew; I hear the star-dust singing in the trees, I hear the sudden beat of wings in flight-- It is an owl--and I begin with these To weave a dream: the fragrance of the night; The tinkle of a brook, far-off, half-heard; The hooting of the owl, soft as a prayer; The sleep murmur of a roosting bird; The scent of wild-plum blossoms on the air-- Enchanted forest fraught with strange appeal; Dim shadow-world, fantastastic and unreal! --James Russell Gray CHANGELING Across a galaxy the being came, It's car a spot of weirdly pulsing light; And space and time were conquered in its flight, Although it had no goal--nor friends, nor name. It passed by suns that burned with leaping flame-- And other stars there were that glowed blue-white-- Yet always did it speed across the night, And always was its loneliness the same. A product of the mighty cosmic rays, Its form had altered in the depths of space; One who had known this creature in the days When it resembled others of its race And braved the void unshielded, without plan-- Would never guess that this was once a man. --James Russell Gray
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