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Page for Young Writers

Landmarks of the Past

PLACES, names and places, are the landmarks of the past;
Faces, dear ones' faces, mental miniatures that last,
Drifting through the shadows in an endless phantom chain,
Long-forgotten stanzas to an old familiar strain.
Strange no big things fill the niches in the Pantheon of life!
Like unequal hand-sewn stitches, seaming-in both joy and strife-
Glowing satin, crimson velvet, without reason we align,
Yet one thin thread runs between them, the unending thread of time.
-Kay Burt.

Farmington, Utah

Improvement Era.

Salt Lake City, Utah

Dear Editor:

SINCE there has been so much propaganda flooding the world today, I thought it might be appropriate to introduce myself to your readers.

I am the most fascinating and interesting of companions. In fact, there is no one with whom you would rather spend your spare time; yet I am the most boring company. Indeed I am often forced upon you and you go to sleep in my presence. Still I am entertaining. I keep you roaring with laughter, or weeping in sympathy.

I make you feel the deepest emotions: admiration, love, reverence, disgust, anger, hate! I thrill you with supreme joy; I weigh you down with sorrow and despair; I inspire you with courage, yet I make you feel afraid.

I am honest, truthful, dependable, and generous with all of my valuable possessions. But always be cautions in my presence, for I lie and would deceive you.

I bring to you your religion; I present to you your law. I can take you almost anywhere in the world. I can tell you of the past and of the future. Furthermore, I am hundreds of years old and will probably live forever-yet I was born yesterday. I am indeed far beyond your powers of comprehension, but there are only a few who cannot understand me.

I am simple and beautiful. I am vague and unreal. I inspire you with awe and wonder. I make you cringe in horror, and send cold chills down your spine.

I belong to the mystic, the intangible-yet I am common, every-day, and matter-of-fact.