Transcribe
Translate
Fanzine Digest, v. 1, issue 1, April 1942
Page 9
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
Lytte ye noneth - ye laste [lytte?] of all ZENITH: FEBRUARY 1942 Between the Lines --Dorothy Norton-- And there, between diversity of pages, With printed words like iridescent cages, Still with his fingerprints, a sculptor's faint Possessive mark, smeared with a poignant paint Of reality. So plainly, yet, I See his fingers wander forth to try The rose against my hair. He was all sunned And laughter, but the uniform yet shunned An intimacy of the future. We --- Leaning, young and thought-tied, against a tree --- Dealt in coppers of the present. Shining Like some garden's autumn treasure, lining Laurelled walls, we left the spring to come. Lame Years have passed, a thousand springs -- one never came. BLACK NOONE AND OTHERS (FEB, 1942) Destiny 'Fywert Kinge' These are the stories of the later days. Under the ebbing sun of a more distant era Far from the bustling time of Aryan reign We turn our heads now. The Earth, old and mellow, and tired, Sighs and flits once an annum About its failing mother light. The sky is darker blue, The ocean more quietly lapping. An air of infinite sorrow hands over all. The fields still clutter with sage and green. But it is more restrained; Perhaps, more dignified. A white road glistens brightly in the noon sun. It winds over quiet flatlands . . . . Along the shores of the pacific seas The beaches remain unperturbed . . . . . . Retrospect! Can this be that far, Far future? That glorious age the ancient sages wrote about? Glass cities? Well kept roads? Thriving gardens? Science, O science. It seems to have died. Dust to dust---perhaps 'tis true, For here, we have the end of the trail And 'tis no different than the beginning. ]Somewhere--somehow the bright dreams Have vanished by the wayside ****
Saving...
prev
next
Lytte ye noneth - ye laste [lytte?] of all ZENITH: FEBRUARY 1942 Between the Lines --Dorothy Norton-- And there, between diversity of pages, With printed words like iridescent cages, Still with his fingerprints, a sculptor's faint Possessive mark, smeared with a poignant paint Of reality. So plainly, yet, I See his fingers wander forth to try The rose against my hair. He was all sunned And laughter, but the uniform yet shunned An intimacy of the future. We --- Leaning, young and thought-tied, against a tree --- Dealt in coppers of the present. Shining Like some garden's autumn treasure, lining Laurelled walls, we left the spring to come. Lame Years have passed, a thousand springs -- one never came. BLACK NOONE AND OTHERS (FEB, 1942) Destiny 'Fywert Kinge' These are the stories of the later days. Under the ebbing sun of a more distant era Far from the bustling time of Aryan reign We turn our heads now. The Earth, old and mellow, and tired, Sighs and flits once an annum About its failing mother light. The sky is darker blue, The ocean more quietly lapping. An air of infinite sorrow hands over all. The fields still clutter with sage and green. But it is more restrained; Perhaps, more dignified. A white road glistens brightly in the noon sun. It winds over quiet flatlands . . . . Along the shores of the pacific seas The beaches remain unperturbed . . . . . . Retrospect! Can this be that far, Far future? That glorious age the ancient sages wrote about? Glass cities? Well kept roads? Thriving gardens? Science, O science. It seems to have died. Dust to dust---perhaps 'tis true, For here, we have the end of the trail And 'tis no different than the beginning. ]Somewhere--somehow the bright dreams Have vanished by the wayside ****
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
