a demonstration to revolutionary novelists and cri-
tics that the task of fiction is "to alter the existing
emotional scale" through a profound study of the
existing scale itself,
it
will have performed an hon-
orable function.
~1idsummer
Night's Dream
She dreams. She sleeps.
She breathes.
How lovely are her arms in the whiteness of the nights.
Her arms like rivers in a town,
to couch a head where the forget-me-not dies.
Her arms, time's girdle,
the gleam of consolations.
Her long hair heavier than the gold of sands
is the autumn of the unfamiliar world of love.
Her long hair where the red memory of October dies.
Her long hair full of railroads, signal-blocks,
with the loud shouts of soldiers in armored trains.
Her long hair full of singing birds and dramas.
Her long hair her long hair.
The softness of her breasts confided to the air's caress.
Breasts rent in shadow.
Promises of a magic milk.
The softness of her breasts is made of an evening's peace
when beside a fountain the young loiter
to pluck ripened mulberries by the road.
The softness of her breasts is made of the youth of fields and
suburbs,
of all the youth of snowy mountain springs.
A vanilla scent on the palms of her hands.
And on her little mouth the sparkle of justice
the guillotine of baby teeth.
Her name brings to my lips the caress
of four letters, the mystery
of four letters.
She has
four letters in her lover's name
four letters she
who bears a love name she
who bears a flower's name she
who bears a hope name she
who bears a woman's name a name of triumph,
the union of contraries,
the tremendous marriage
of man and nature.
Lovely as the white coal entering the copper's hean
The Soviet Union awakes
and turns to the workers of the future
her womanly eyes of earth.
LOUIS
ARAGON
Translated !rrJm the French by Samuel Putnam.
PARTISAN
REVIEW
From a
Strike Diary
JOHN MULLEN
iW onday morning,
6
:30
A. M.
THE first day of the strike. Only about fifty pickets
showed up this morning.
With four hundred on
strike and only half a hundred turning out for the
picket lines, things don't look so good. However,
you can never tell what's liable to happen when you
strike a steel mill, especially when it belongs to the
Republic Steel Corporation.
The atmosphere around the mill reminds me of
two men about to fight, coats flung to the ground,
both wary and hesitant to strike the first blow.
Our few pickets are on edge and nervous at every
sign of life over there across the street behind that
big iron gate of the mill entrance. We know that the
company bulls are behind that gate, riot clubs grasp-
ed nervously, and the flaps of their gun holsters open,
ready for instant use. Occasionally one of the com-
pany guards peers at us through the bars of the gate,
like an ape ogling the crowd from his cage. We
stand around, speculating among ourselves whether
or not there's more than just uniformed company
guards over there. I see Sam Wagner, our local
union president, talking to a group of pickets and
walk over to get his opinion.
"Think there's more than just company bulls
there?" I ask, inclining my head toward the gate.
He looks puzzled for a moment and stares intent-
ly at the mill entrance.
"Damned if I know," he replies, "we had some of
the boys watching the mill all night and they report
they saw closed cars driving in 'long about mid-
night." Then he adds hopefully, "Might be only
company officials."
"Whole auto loads of bosses don't go driving into
the mill at midnight, especially in closed cars," I
answered. He pursed his lips and then, as though he
doesn't want to believe this, he growls reluctantly.
"Guess you're right. Must be thugs."
One of the pickets motions to Wagner from across
the street, and he goes over. I stand watching him.
His broad shoulders slump wearily. Most of us have
been without sleep for twenty four hours or more.
It's a queer sensation to be standing out front of
the mill you've worked in for years; the same mill
you walked into and rang the time-clock every
morning, and then suddenly, you find yourself stand-
ing outside, ready to tear a man apart if he tries to
