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Gangelin, Paul; Hanson, Earl; Gregory, Horace (ed.) / The Wisconsin literary magazine
Volume XXI, Number 1 (October 1921)

Gregory, Horace
Threnody,   p. 2


Page 2


WISCONSIN LITERARY MAGAZINE
THE ADVENTURES OF CAUCELM. At the end of
last year we
left Gaucelm lying flat on his back, about to dream
a dream. We promised to enlighten the avid reader
about it in the first number of this semester, but the
amiable author of the serial came into injudicious con-
flict with the authorities. As a result he is languish-
ing in exile in Green Bay, whence he writes most
engaging vignettes of the sub-metropolis of Wiscon-
sin. If all goes well, Gaucelm's dream will appear
in the next number.
LITERATURE AND LIQUOR. Even the casually obser-
vant reader will notice
an entirely unconscionable element of liquor in the
current issue of this magazine. This may be the fault
of the fantastic immaturity of the undergraduate mind,
and then again it may not.
We have become morbidly sensitive on the sub-
ject of drink. It has so recently been added to the
list of taboos that the sanction of erstwhile respect-
ability has not yet lost its force; therefore it is not
yet shocking bad taste to speak of liquor. It is be-,
coming bad taste, though, and, more important with
respect to the LIT, it is becoming a mark of turpitude.
The thought of Prohibition is at present one of the
pet playthings of the American mind. We are de-
veloping a national "complex," on the subject, as it
were. Prohibition and its connotation, liquor, have
taken the place of the weather as the only reliable topic
of conversation. Liquor has always held a prominent
place in literature, a place corresponding to its signi-
ficance in life. We have emphasized that significance,
and we object to it, but we shall have to put up with
it until the world has forgotten hard drink.
EDITORS
i
PAUL
EARL
L
GANGELIN
HANSON
HORACE GREGORY
MARGARET EMMERLING
Threnody
HORACE GREGORY.
You are music lost in me;
Changing music, strange and rare,-
Weaving into melody
Are the measures of your hair.
When the rythms of your breast,
Yearning curves that turn to song
In the threnody of rest
Where the nights are still and long,
Lead me into new refrains,
Drifting; then you lift to me
All your beauty in the strains
Of an ancient melody.
October, 1921


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