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WISCONSIN LITERARY MAGAZINE
Dance the four Seasons!-sorrow and sharp grief
in Spring,
And languid longing of the heart,
And Love's hard treasons, old loves sadly per-
ishing,
And loves grown sweet that now depart
With sighs and sorrow; and in Summer, mem-
ories
Of loves that will not wake again
To any morrow, and the too-sweet night that flees
Too swiftly, saying 'It is vain.'
Leaving no treasure; Autumn, gathering, in the
rain,
The harvest of the barern year:
Lean grapes of pleasure, sad and swollen sheaves
of pain,
And fruits wherein no loves appear,
Nor any gladness; Winter, tearing the last leaf
From its repose with his hard breath,
And giving sadness till the weary mouth of grief
Kisses the grievous mouth of death.
Table Talk
EMILIE HAHN
The low ceiling was roughly beamed, and the
shadows of the room crept up to it only to be
swallowed in its vague pattern of light and dark.
Through the thick, sluggish atmosphere of rising
cigarette-smoke and steady, low talk, an iron lan-
tern glowed red; beneath it the crowded square
tables contributed futile answering gleams from
candles stuck upright in saucers, surrounded with
stained cigarette-stubs and melted wax. A man
carrying a tray of empty coffee-cups edged his
way between the tables, colliding with wooden
stools and unexpected sharp edges. Around the
tables absorbed faces were reflected in the candle-
light, and the monotonous murmur of conversa-
tion ceased now and then as some voice suddenly
emerged, stimulated by a temporary self-confi-
dence.
In one corner of silence and deep shadow a man
lounged motionless. His chair was tilted back
against the wall; the chin of his impassive face
wvas sunk into his chest; but beneath the dropped,
heavy lids his eyes, startlingly alive, stared into
the clattering confusion with rapt intensity
changing the quiet figure to a brooding menace.
The lantern swayed, and the shadows crept forth
and then slipped back into their hiding-places,
and the silent smoke glided up and up.
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Juine, 1923