Two Sonnets I ASK THE LEAST OF LIFE I don't aspire to everlasting fame! I don't expect a cheering crowd To sing my praises long and loud, Nor do I seek a fortune in life's game. Let fame and fortune pass me by And though I leave no footprint on the sands of time, Nor hope posterity will quote my well-turned rhyme, I'll meet this lowly fate with head held high. If I could make one life a bit more gay, Bringing gladness to a single saddened heart If one man went refreshed along his way, I'd feel that I had done my humble part. This boon of fate alone is all I crave, I'd like to write one verse for Burma Shave. Lesbeth Lucas SONNET TO A SIAMESE Dear, love has passed me by No more I hold your silken charms; With heart of stone my pleadings you deny, No substitute to fill my empty arms. A false friend snared your fickle heart, With choicest gifts he tempted you to roam; You deemed it best to live a life apart, He lured you from your rightful home. What now will fill my cheerless life? Why do I find myself dismayed? Though I have neither child nor loving wife, How can I face the future unafraid? Though with your charms I was so deeply smitten, I'll go right down and buy another kitten. Lesbeth Lucas The Fabulous Cat Continued progression of the age, but what are you going to do about Black Cats? We have always been bad luck; we always will be bad luck; and we demand to know what you are going to do about it." Mr. Dinsmoore had never heard a cat talk and he wasn't sure he liked the idea now that he had. He especially didn't like the idea tonight while he sat in the 4th Avenue beer parlor thinking how clever he was to have modernized his superstitions. Mr. Dinsmoore looked at the cat and blinked his eyes; looked at his glass of beer and blinked his eyes; then looked back at the cat. "Mr. Cat," said Mr. Dinsmoore, "I will be back in one hour," and he got up and went to the 3rd Avenue beer parlor where there were no cats, ordered nine glasses of beer and sat down to think. One hour later Mr. Dinsmoore re-entered the 4th Avenue beer parlor and sat down at the table on which the black cat with one red and one pink eye and two purple tails was seated. "Mr. Cat," said Mr. Dinsmoore, "I have never worried about black cats in the past. I have never thought they were bad luck. And now that it has been called to my attention, b'Gawd I'm still not going to worry about them. As far as I'm concerned there are no Black Cats and even if there were they wouldn't be bad luck, and you, my Ethiopian friend, can go to hell!!!! As for me, I'm going down to the fire station to get in a game of Gin Rummy and forget about you!!!!!" So saying, Mr. Dinsmoore got up, walked out of the 4th Avenue beer parlor, set his foot on a banana peel and fell on his head. As he got up to his knees, he came face to face with two black cats with different colored eyes and purple tails. As he watched them, the cats shrugged their shoulders and said in unison "We warned you, Mr. Dinsmoore," and walked away. Early that morning the people in Mr. Dinsmoore's apartment building were awakened by someone pounding on a piece of board. When they investigated the Dinsmoore apartment, they found Mr. Dinsmoore sitting on the floor beating one of the wooden doors from the 4th Avenue beer parlor, surrounded by 400 horseshoes, 297 packages of pins, and 11 ladders'. Moral: Superstition may become outmoded, but never trust a talking cat. Page Eighteen Continued how I didn't want to stay with Aunt Millie because of the birds and how Bill always laughed at me. He didn't say anything for awhile and then he said, "You're not really afraid." I looked at him in wonderment. No one ever said that before. Then he told me how it was that I was really brave. I had come to him and told him about Bill and I knew Bill would hurt me if he ever found out. And it was the same with the birds. He told me how birds were farmers' friends. That night I went back to Aunt Millie. She told me that if I hadn't meant to kill the bird it was all right and she was sure that the birds would forget all about it. And they did. The next morning when I sat on the plow with Uncle Milt a whole flock of seagulls followed us, and not even tried to hurt me. MARJORIE FARR ... is a sophomore who writes poetry merely for her own pleasure as she terms it "dabbling". Her major is Home Economics and Marge's real ambition is to put her knowledge into practical application. LESBETH LUCAS ... a Freshman, whose previous ventures into the world of poetry have displayed remarkable ability for a student, contributed "A Sonnet" to inflect a lighter vein in the poetry of this Autumn's Scribulus. MAURICE RICHARDS . . . the editor of Scribulus, displays his versatility as a poet, author, and capable elocutionist. "Bud's" literary inclinations are not predominant; however, his salient interest is political science. WALLACE PINGREE ... a sophomore, reveals his talent as a poet heretofore hidden by a sincere reticence. He has less aesthetic-ambitions, however. Wallace would like to gain his fame as a "chef". MARGE ANDELIN . . . artist, dancer, writer . . . has already achieved much at Weber. Scribulus credits her with much of the fine lettering appearing in this issue. LEO BARNARD ... Mr. Farrell Collett's promising young freshman hails from Boise, Idaho. Although he has only been in art work for two months, his drawings show a great deal of skill, as his illustrations in Scribulus prove. He aspires to be a professional cartoonist. THORA CHRISTENSEN . . . contributed much of the built-up lettering for stories and features . . . Art work has served her as an interesting avocation during her two years at Weber. BILLY IOHNSON . . . has carved a niche in the minds of every student who has seen some of his work His cartoons and drawings have won national recognition. Some of his handiwork will appear in every school publication this year. Scribulus is proud to have Bill as its Art Editor for 1941-42. MORRY LUDDEN . . . graduated from Ogden High School in '39. He is responsible for a good part of the lettering in this issue. LORNA HULL . . . from Weber High, aspires to be a commercial artist. She did the lettering on the cover of this issue. Page Nineteen