YOU NEVER GUESSED
A. L. G.

You loaned me a book three years ago,
When I gave it back you did not know

Two yellow pansies were pressed in that book.

Today I ran through its pages again

I searched for the yellow pansies in vain;

Perhaps, perhaps you did chance to look!

But if you did look you never guessed

Just why those pansies I carefully pressed

And kissed, yes kissed, laying them in your book.

THE MARTIAN SPEAKS

Charles Howard Shinn

This is our lovely planet Mars,
Red-named, and feared by you below,
Whose millions, racked with passion, sow
Your great earth-ruining wars.

But here, in one vast brotherhood,
We battle for the common good.

And thus our war with Ancient Death
These hundred-thousand fighting years
Has ended pain, and hate, and fears,
Till now we breathe as with one breath;
We wrest new secrets out of space
To shape our world, and help our race.

Before Semiramis, the Great,

Sat robed in purple on her throne;
Before your desert sands were blown

Above the Sphinx's temple gate;

Before your Glacial Age's frost-
Our ocean's every drop was lost.

But we treasure every seed,

And every inch of soil is dear,
And all the moisture of our sphere

Is gathered for our daily need

In common toils for common good;
For Fellowship is understood.

And thus our cups of life are full
But yet no surplus drop we spill;
No crimes or passions work us ill;
But clear, in every Martian school,

We warn, by tales of waste and flame

And wounds and selfish thefts and shame.

We, too, had lords of peace and pride,
Till each man, in his secret heart,
Dwelt from his fellow men apart,

A slave of slaves, and slaving died!
But now just Comrades-none have less,
None more and this is blessedness.

A

The Humble Beginning of the Family Affair
By a Pioneer

LONG time ago, some 150,000 years, one guesses, there was a Plot of Ground-a very small one, on a gentle slope covered with blossoming shrubs and wild flowers. It looked out upon a wide bay and a superb river that came sweeping down from lakes and forests. As far as the record goes, it was for the temporary use of any and all members of a large and variously-endowed human family-it and many other millions of variously-situated Plots of Ground, Arctic, temperate, and tropic in respect to climate -Asian, European, American, and so on, to the ends of the earth.

The first temporary possessors built shelters of windfall sticks and bark, on growing piles of refuse and rubbish. (In after ages men called them "kitchen-middens.")

After a while some of these members

of the Family died with painful and poisonous diseases. Evidently (as they thought) it was because their evil gods were on the warpath, so the summons sent for those who knew the Rules. Loud noises, invocations and sacrifices followed; the huts were burned and new ones built close by, on the same kitchen-midden. One mind-using neighbor who kept much to himself, ventured to intimate that the spring might be cleaned out, and the rubbish thrown in the river. He was called a fool, and shortly came to a violent end, for he had spoken against the established order of ages. The Plot of Ground had nothing to say.

After fifty thousand years of fragmentary use of the Plot of Ground it occurred to some of the temporary possessors that a wooden floor might have advantages, and at last they began to build semi-fortified houses. They also dug holes under

the floors, and invented convenient lift doors. These holes were used by some to keep domestic animals; others chained their enemies down there; a few bestowed all the refuse and rubbish in these pits. (This happens even now among some members of Juke-like tribes of people.)

After awhile the house-dwellers had painful and noisome diseases; they sent for the Established Authorities who ordered them to sprinkle the pits with rosewater and to whitewash the floors. One mind-using neighbor said this was worse than useless, as it led men's thoughts from the real problem. They called him a nuisance, and as he sarcastically persisted they forthwith abated him, dropping his remains into one of the cellars.

More "Visitations of the Gods" followof the priests of the land came together ed hard upon this event, and the greatest in long ceremonial processions, seven times seven times encircling the village. When a spiritual brother of the Nuisance laughed at all this they called him an Abominable Infidel, and presently he also was officially removed. We have no record of what the Plot of Ground thought about it.

The river of time swept on down the centuries. More homes were built on the Plot of Ground by temporary occupants, each of whom began to say: "This is mine -my home, for I built it—my land, for I took it."

Came then a mind-using neighbor, leaning on one of the newly invented fences, and said: "Of course its your home, for your labor created it, but the land was here in the beginning, and will be here until time is no more."

"The land," they replied, "is ours and our children's forever."

"Why?" he asked. They cried out against him and sent for the officials. The mildest name they gave him was "crank;" from that it rose to radical, anarchist, enemy of the social order, so they put him in the stocks; they threw dead cats, chunks of granite and the like at him all day long. At sunset they kicked him out of the town and advised him to go and hang himself. The Plot of Ground shivered a little; men called it an earthquake, caused by the eclipse of the sun plus certain failures of worthless people to pay their tithes and taxes to the priests of the land.

As the wicked radical limped off towards the sunset, looking for some unoccupied land, he said within his battered self: "Dead cats don't disprove my fool notion; I am still persuaded that we are members of one Big Family; and that all

the Plots of Ground on earth are our heritage. Still," he added "it's a lovely notion." He sat down on a rock, looking back at the place he had been driven from.

There was a young man resting in the shade of the rock. He heard the exile

say, "It's a lovely notion." He arose and asked, "What is?" The two talked long together. At last the youth reached out a toil-hardened hand: "I'll go with you, stranger, all the way. One and one make two."

The Thought had begun to broaden into other places. It was on the road to become a Family Affair. In a few more thousands of years people would begin to think about such matters as single home-acres, the bringing of water and land together, intensive agriculture, conservation. By this road the whole big world-family would learn to pull togeth

er.

ONLY A WOMAN THAT'S ALL
Annis Knowles

Only a woman-her love untold—

Lying unwept in the valley cold;

The mother heart of her turned to stone-
Who should have cherished-left her alone.

Erring woman-but her heart was true

She only went wrong- —as I or you;

Her saddened soul cried out in her fall;

Only a woman, just weak, that's all.

Another woman-called sweetheart, then;

Still just a woman-mother of men;

For you she gave all the best she had;

For you her sweet smile was bright and glad.

Only a woman-just doing her part;

Only a woman with true human heart.

With love protecting she broods o'er the whole

Of all living forms with regal, true soul.

In all the struggles which run through life

Her tenderness o'ercame your strife;

When the world to you looked dark and blue,

Her love was as sunshine rifting thru.

We have climbed up to the summit, from the rugged base below: We are standing where the sun-lit peaks o'ershadowed the ocean's flow;

Gazing down in retrospection-as we rest in perfect calmWe can see where truth of action gave our journey its sweet balm.

There were dim and unknown passes-needing wisdom, courage,

strength;

There were luring, subtle hazes, and steep climb's persistent length. But we longed to know the secrets of life's lessons-unfulfilled; Life's muse awoke and sung-again-its minstrel harp was stilled.

But gazing upward to the height, there came streaming down A silvery golden light-truth's hallowed love did throw. With quickened heart-intense desire daring to gain the ascent, It was from love's celestial fire-that incense aid was lent.

Old loves upon the altar-pyre, we sacrificed-as of old. And o'er the broken web of life new seraph songs were scrolled. The things which hurt us as we passed, and shadowy mists, have flown;

But hearts record their hist'ry well-it is thus-all hearts are known.

At rest upon the mountain height, protected in sweet content; Truth's silvery light is vibrant with the love of ages sent.