Breezes by Jerry Carlile I stood alone Atop a hill, And listened to The sighing breeze That stirred my hair, And brushed my cheek, And waved the grass Around my feet, And gave an idle bird A pleasant ride. Sorrowing by Jerry Carlile Alone! Alone! Alone! I cry your name aloud, my love, And the night wind whispers To the trees "She is dead, And he is lonely." The trees and wind chant A mournful song. Lonely! Lonely! Lonely! My soul is fallen In a vast black ocean. No ship shall come to rescue me. I shout to the empty vaults of heaven In vain. I am alone! I sob aloud and call your name, And the river tells the rushes "She is dead, And he is lonely." The rushes and the river Chant the mournful song. Lonely! Lonely! Lonely! A night bird hears the song, Rises in flight, Screams in sorrow "She is dead, And he is lonely! Lonely! Lonely!" The Lake by Carol Jean Vendell I chose the crispness of the autumn day For a shawl. And I lay and stared hard Into my world. The piercing thorns of the mountain range Thrust down. Pricking the bottomless hollow Of my sky. The dark cool shadows of the underbought Of pines Cascade down like cataracts with the odor Of sharpness. And evening, as an elusive bandit, comes silently in To snuff out the glow, Leaving the forms quiet and remote. And I reach out to run my fingers Through the stars And smile At their hushed tinkling whispers And cold fresh wetness Electrifying currents of nearness Up my arms. Anodyne by Dick Layman How does this mold'ring faith survive still, yet (From Tiber's banks transplanted to our clime) So far misplaced, ill-tempered to the time, Unchanging since the age of Jesuit? It seems, until the world its god forget, This institution praised in Dante's rhyme Shall still beguile the meek with rite sublime And mystic hope of incarnate god met. I do not mock at self-deceived men's trust; Its very architecture breathes peace; And men with temperament so like to mine Have by its rituals escaped death's dust (At least in mind) and found in rites surcease Of pain. Would I had such an anodyne . . . Page Twenty Photo by West Geraldine Olson . . . Joyce Dickens From the time back in the distant past when the fur-clad mistress of a cave in the forest first discovered her reflection in a pool, the search for beauty has been a vital part of almost every woman's life. Gigantic industries have developed out of this characteristic of the female half of society, and the millions of dollars spent each year on cosmetics and related products testify as to the success of these industries. One of the most important branches of the business of "gilding the lily" is that located throughout the country in countless beauty shops where miracles are performed daily. The need for trained beauticians to manage these shops has led to the opening of a new department in Weber College's Division of Technical Education the Department of Cosmetology. Page Twenty-one