Life, 1915-01-21 · page 15 of 44
Life — January 21, 1915 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**The Poetry ("Frustrate"):** Louis Untermeyer's poem parodies overwrought Romantic literature (referencing Browning and Post-Impressionist work). It mocks dramatic melodrama—a woman confesses to murder, the narrator rushes to save her through increasingly absurd poetic imagery (stars "baying," winds with "lips"). The punchline: she deceived him; the "cabby" (taxi driver) was the actual problem. It satirizes pretentious literary overstatement and the gap between dramatic posturing and mundane reality. **The Cartoons:** - Top left: A soldier climbing a pole while a child below asks if he'll "send a telegram"—likely mocking military inefficiency or absurd wartime procedures. - Bottom right: Shows a dog under a horse, captioned about getting "on his nerves"—gentle visual humor about discomfort. **"What After Safety?":** The essay questions whether society, having obsessed over "safety first," has neglected asking what comes *after* safety is achieved. It's post-WWI social commentary on whether prioritizing safety has made people forget larger purposes.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“LIFE™ Frustrate ica to sible (After an evening of Browning, Maseficld and some . rcible Post-impressionistic literature.) most . wish TURNED to the parlor in panic And blurted out, “ What must you think?” She rippled, “ Then let me the canick— In clink!” ation . sat oat © it I soared to my feet; it was still dim * * * th The moon, like an opal in fright, fie Leaned over and whispered, “I killed him ds. Last night.” our and Not an hour to lose; I would save her— urt I fastened my spurs in the air act, With the scent of the twilight I gaye her the To wear. en, And I thought, with a shriek, of how Friday Would burst into corduroy pants— And I drove like a fiend, and I cried, “ Day, 1g Advance!” The wind smacked its lips. “Here's a nice treat"; The sea was a forest of flame— And so to the billowy Bye Street I came. * * * The stars at my shoulder were baying, I surged through the hole i’ the gate— And I knew that the Bishop was saying, “Too late.” 1 ee eee They tell me that no one believed I never was asked to the feas . My dears, ’twas the cabby deceived me— The beast! Louis Untermeyer. | “ WHAT ARE YE GOIN’ TO DO UP THERE? SEND A TELEGRAM?” a What After Safety > EYERYBopy from Dan to Beersheba is now thor- = oughly convinced that “safety first” is the proper thing. It may not always be possible to agree upon whose safety it shall be, but considered wholly in the abstract, | anybody caught putting anything ahead of safety in these enlightened days of peace and good will would have to dodge anathema the rest of his life. Indeed, so amicably and universally settled is this problem of “safety first” that many are wondering if we shouldn't now stop talking about it and commence to consider what shall come after safety. Safety, although the first thing, is not the only thing. What shall we have for second? Any suggestion, however foolish, will be Pup: 1 WONDER IF THAT GETS ON HIS NERVES welcome, AS MINE DOES? comichooks.