Earthquakes and Brainstorms

Boston's spring crop of earthquakes has excited the envy and jealousy of the Californians and Japanese. With the assurance of geologists that Boston is to have bigger and better earthquakes in the near future the Far West and the Far East fear that the flow of post-earthquake gold will be diverted to New England. They also fear the effects of the earthquake spirit upon American literature. The long awaited renaissance or more properly, naissance of American poetry has depended upon just such a shaking up.

Already poets are springing up on all sides, each species composing "after his own kind", just as was predicted in the Scriptures. It may turn out as Emerson suspected, that "there are no common men". The Jester, simple fellow that he is, writes a rhyme "To a Playful Earthquake":

Quake on, old Earth, quake on!

When'er the spirit moves, Quake on!

What though we're jolted from our grooves?

What though we're quiet-loving folks?

What though we shudder at your jokes?

What though we beg and plead and coax?

Never you mind!

Quake on!

Quake on, old Earth, quake on!

For terra firma's firm no more!

Quake on!

It's true we're frightened to the core;

It's true we've got our work to do;

We must have you to fasten to

But don't let that unsettle you!

Never you mind!

Quake on!

The Child of the Age, disciple of the ancient Omar, sings a bacchanalian ditty, one of those flower-that-once has-blown-for-ever-dies songs.

What care I for earthquakes?

A fig for their sorrow!

They're nothing to heartaches!

Come! Drink to Tomorrow!

With women and song, like a Sheik in his tent.

I'll live like a Sultan until I'm all spent.

The ruminating Philosopher loses himself in a rapture upon the instability of things in general and the comforting permanence which underlies all flux and change--even the violent, upheavals of earthquakes:

The old Earth trembles; hearts are filled with awe

As long ago they were when Nature's Law

Was thought the caprice of the gods unknown,

In that dim past when man first stood alone.

From none knows whence and bound for none knows what

The Earth goes spinning tirelessly through space:

And now and then, though heeding not.

Gives birth to some new species, tribe, or race.

Those ancient men, self-centered then as now,

Began, it seems, according to their creeds,

To worship Nature's shows with prayer and vow

With hope to warp her ends to their own needs.

But when, at last, they saw her as she is,

This "tender, loving Mother of us all".

Impassive Law, devoid of sympathies.

Men ceased upon their knees in prayer to fall

For, understanding much, they guessed the rest,

And turned to Science to complete the quest.

It Didn't

A flask holding six fluid oz.

Was dropped by a lady in floz.

As it crashed to the street

She lisped very sweet--

"I wanted to see if it boz."

Brief digest of the Sanger mass-meeting at the Liberal Club.

First Enthusiast "Our children will read about Margaret Sanger"

Second Enthusiast "We won't have any children."