arising in the preparation of the silver nitrate solution. A group of doctors decided that the situation could no longer be borne, and at once they set about studying the various antiseptics; nor was it hard for them to single out penicillin from all the rest—that wondrous drug whose results have dazzled the world and kindled a new hope across the broad horizons of medicine.

And indeed, as the outcome of their many attempts, the doctors obtained astonishing results, and not a single case of blindness occurred among the newborns on whom the penicillin trials were made that year. These doctors became certain that they had found what they had been seeking. But this question—the question of replacing silver nitrate with penicillin—proved of greater consequence than they had reckoned, for these doctors are bound by a legal oath, and it is not easy to break it so long as public opinion does not stir a finger in the matter. And so the doctors will remain with their hands tied until public opinion, and then the governments, bestir themselves to loose their bonds by amending the law and substituting penicillin for the silver nitrate solution, to be dropped into the eyes of every newborn at the hour of birth—out of care for the eyes of our dear children against a near danger that may threaten their sight and rob them of the enjoyment of light, the joy of life!

Women with No Hope in Life

Women who have no hope in life and who live forever on its margin. They are:

— A woman who has lost the beauty of her soul, the most precious thing an honorable woman keeps.

— A woman who has followed her own headstrong will to follow the devil into hell.

— A woman... who forever forgets that she is a woman... possessed of a woman's tenderness, a woman's femininity, and a woman's modesty.

My Village!!
Dedicated to the toiling sons of my village...
a gift of precious love...
they who turned the wasteland into gardens...
and the dust into purple...
She lived in bliss, secluded in the bosom of the hills... a forest of lions, a covert of gazelles...
Beauty sprinkled her with the dews of contentment... welcome to her bounty!! How sweet she is!...
Soft is life there, and tranquil its shade... down whose gilded path a lifetime was led...
Ah, my sister!! Never has humiliation passed over your slopes, nor has ignorance crept there...
O resting-place of the soul from its misery... O life of the spirit in the cradle of pride...
In you, companionship is my everlasting shade... driving off care and dispelling afflictions...
Cradle my virgin hopes as long as you will... and summon the star-bright souls...
Your precious covenant has run in our free blood.. we would ransom whatever you ask...
We shall make life shine in an age of bliss... radiant with dreams, sweet and good...
You, my sister, are the lodestar of our resolve... and of our love—so make light of sorrow...
My comrades have taken up the light... that the dawn may crowd out the flashing lightnings...
We have pledged never to see night in you... and to lift away the veils...
Welcome, O procession of resolve... to the army of your sons, hail and welcome...
With brows wrapped round in earnest toil... that have sought no goal but the heights...
Their flute is the ring of their pickaxes... turning the wasteland and the hills into gardens...
Latakia, February 7, 1948
Fatima Abbas
17