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240 TO DRAGMA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI                                                 TO DRAGMA OF ALPHA OMICRON PI                              241

A tree that looks at God all day                                                  A WOMAN'S REPORT OF CONDITIONS IN GERMANY
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
                                                                                  F r o m The Outlook o f December 6 , 1 9 1 6 .
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;                                                        To readers of Mrs. Gallison's account of her visit to Germany (the
                                                                                  second installment o f which appears i n this number o f The Outlook)
Upon whose bosom snow has lain,                                                   it w i l l be interesting to compare a very different report of conditions
Who intimately lives with rain.                                                   in Germany from another American woman. Miss Madeleine Z. Doty
                                                                                  last summer went to Germany. I n part, at least, her purpose was to
Poems are made by fools like me,                                                  carry aid to underfed German babies; but i t was i n part to observe
But only God can make a tree.                                                     conditions there. H e r report is appearing on successive Sundays i n
                                                                                  the N e w Y o r k Tribune and i n the Chicago Tribune. Miss Doty
                                                                  —Joyce Kilmer.  is w e l l k n o w n f o r what she has done on behalf o f prison r e f o r m .

   Have you ever felt like this? I f not, perhaps you w i l l before              She f o u n d the German people suffering f r o m physical privations

commencement festivities are over.                                                and the mental strain of war. The food that she had, except i n the

                                                          TEA                     very best hotels and i n certain private homes, was inadequate.

                                          By Margaret Widdemer                    "Prison diet," she says, "does not promote health or strength. One
    They've flowers and cakes and candle-light, and chair by crowded chair
    And I am very sweet and kind because I do not care.                           can live on it, but patriotism and temper suffer." The people at a
    I think that I am hoping still if I am very good,
     And talk to those around me as a courteous lady should,                      cafe which she describes were "shrunken, listless, distraught." She
    The room will softly split across, and roll from left to right
    With all its smiling pasteboard folks and colored things and light,           could not swallow the cakes that were served. " O n l y the music is
    And let me run into the grass and climb a sunset hill
    And find three hours one year ago when I was living still!                    cheerful, " she says. "There is a revival o f band playing i n Ger-

                                                                                  many. I t is needed to hide the lack of laughter and talk  Life

This is f o r you who have lived in the mountains!                *               has become mere existence, a prison existence." A satisfying meal
                                                                                  she reports as a noteworthy experience. A f t e r one such meal she
                                              THE EXILE                           w r i t e s : " I t seems cruel to eat o f Germany's best, but I decided to
                                                                                  live henceforth at the most expensive hotels."
                                         By Katherine Tynan
                     Since I have lost the mountains, I                               Since her preceding visit the year before she reports a change in
                     Look for them in the waste of sky.                           the attitude of the German people toward America:
                     And think to see at the street-close
                     The lovely line of blue and rose                                 To-day the average person is pathetically eager to be friends.
                     The mountains keep that once I knew.                         Slowly the people are awakening. For months the newspapers have
                                                                                  fed them on the triumphs of Germany and the perfidy of other
                     There are no mountains there at all,                         nations. B u t these stories of glorious German victories have resulted
                     But only the blank roof and wall                             in what? A lean and barren country, under-nourishment, death, the
                     Of many houses red and grey.                                 hatred of other nations. The people begin to doubt their leaders.
                     I had forgotten the old way
                     The mountains keep in rain and dew.                             T o call these people "barbarians" is an outrage. They are, like
                                                                                  ourselves, just folks, kindly and generous, deceived and browbeaten
                     Even in the pleasant country places,                         by a ruthless military group.
                     Where the fields' faces are friends' faces,
                     The mountains I shall not forget,                                Her account of being spied upon is amusing. She tells of doubling
                     The mountains come between us yet,                           on her tracks when she went to visit a member o f the Social Demo-
                     Between me and the woods and streams.                        cratic party i n order that she m i g h t avoid observation. She saw
                                                                                  enough of spies to f o r m the f o l l o w i n g impression:
                     The wind that blows across them calls
                    Ever at dawns and evenfalls,                                     The f u n n y thing about German spies is that they dress f o r the
                     And I am suddenly forlorn—                                   part. T h e y are as unmistakable as Sherlock Holmes. T h e y nearly
                    Across the pastures and ripe corn
                     I see the mountains in my dreams.
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