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The Magpie Sings the Great Depression:
Selections from DeWitt Clinton High School's Literary Magazine, 1929-1942

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Prologue

Lewis Harris

The Magpie, January 1941, v. 25, n. 1, p. 4.

There's a dying light to the stars, and their shafts are grey and pallid. And there's a dying light to our life in this age.

It's all fantastic; the rhythm of life is twisted into the scream of a siren and the wail of a child's voice. It's a horrible age, as darkness seeps out of space to cover the earth.

A million years ago a man came out of his cave with a light in his hand. That light was to glow through the ages, always reaching out beyond the veil of ignorance and loom to bring the shadows of life into the realms of vision and thought.

And now, a million years later, the light is going out, and man is desperately racing to his cave.

I saw the moon last night, and a thousand airplanes broke the light with death and flame. I saw the moon last night, but now it's gone.

This was a park, this twisted mass of sod, and this—this was a man.

There's a fury to life, a rushing away from decent things. People hate, and the belching flame of guns has lit the sky where stars dare not cast their light. And the world is groping in the dark.

So turn your face a little to the light, that you may see, and turn away a little that you may not see too much.

And so it is in the hope of light and life that we dedicate the Magpie to the dawn of a new lay lust beyond the lark horizon.




The Magpie Sings the Great Depression

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