College of William and Mary - Colonial Echo Yearbook (Williamsburg, VA)

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il C|)e Colonial €c )o, 192 1 History of the Class of 1923 R( )M Freshman to Sophomore is only one step on the educational stairway, but it marks a (tetinite advance in all those things that Alma Mater inspires. Love for one ' s college begins to crystalize (luring one ' s sophomore year, and each succeeding year makes stronger this bond of affection. The sophomore class of 1920-21 did not differ from sophomore classes of other years in any great respect. In this class was to be found the enthusiasm, extravagant hopes, and self-complacency common to all sophomore classes. Its sole virtue was the regard with which it was held by the freshmen, and hopes for the future entertained by altitudinous juniors and seniors. After this impersonal, dispassionate line of reasoning, we shall now try to ; J be a human being and say something nice about the future greats in our class. c ' Intellectual giants, athletes de luxe, athletes a la Mexico, good fellows — i-- ' all are to be found shedding their refulgent rays upon an unsuspecting world. Have we not Monk White, Alva Cooke, Girard Moore, and Otto Lowe t amongst us to set the athletic pace? And who can gainsay Reginald Kenney, ' -■ Edwin Davis, Fulcher, Burfoot, Pollard and Everett Wood that peak attained only by those who burn the midnight oil? Isn ' t there Phi Beta Kappa material 1 in that group ? Sure, wonders never cease ! Then there is Bill Christian. He is r: a landmark and a handy man, when he isn ' t slinging ink for the college press ' ' i [ club. And Qine said he organized a band, though few persons believed him. iS The class, in harboring a would-be poet among its number, seeks forgive- t|-- ness. Because he disliked perfumed notes and all that sort of thing, Melvin ' j :: Tennis chose the nom de plume of Drow-sy Waters. His outbursts really were not g| ;;, bad. The chauvinistic Schenck and the faithful Bridges upheld the class honors ' 5; ' with the fair sex. What more could any class ask ? We might go on indefinitely, 2 but human patience, as we know, has a limit. r. Such mighty curlers as our class boasts of seldom have invaded the Sacred Halls of America ' s second oldest institution of learning. The class has a future, 5; just as all classes have, and several years must elapse before an impartial inventory s can be taken. But with pardonable pride we advance the belief that the type S; of men and women in our class will produce results highly advantageous to : ' William and Mary. :;;, Aeons and aeons ago some bard went into ecstasy over liberty and what g; it meant. That was before the eighteenth Federal amendment. Sophomores !g ' have a certain liberty, after a year ' s bondage in freshman ranks, and there are I© few things VE wise soph doesn ' t know. But Time is a great healer, and we all ' ' would make our lives sublime. ip , — Historian. sI iS S3i

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C e Colonial €cf)o, 1921 t- . The Gang ' s All Here Hail! Hail! The Gang ' s all here! How we have heard them sing it, swarming down the street, Their boyish, untrained voices, hit or miss at tune or time To the trampling of the clumsy, untrained feet. Perhaps they ' d won a football game, or wished to raise a row — What the Deuce do we care now! ' •Hail! Hail! The Gang ' s all here! Sounding like a pean along a foreign road, Marching, boys no longer, as Crusaders every one, Called to free a stricken people from their load. French children caught the foolish words and sang them anyhow- IVhat the Deuce do we care nozv! Hail! Hail! The Gang ' s all here! We hear them sing their marching song again, Counting the empty places in the gang with burning eyes, And through the flaunting notes of the refrain. Voices we hear, that shouted once, our hearts remember how — What the Deuce do we care! What the Deuce do ive care! What the Deuce do we care now! ft ' Psge liO

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■i ' I I Boy of the Broken Body Who Died ' st for France On the second anniversary of the armistice, the body of an unidentified j-oung Poilu, disinterred from the field of the First Marne, was buried with the highest mil- itary honors in the Hotel des Invalides. Boy of the broken body, who died ' st for France, What time the exuUant Hun burst through the gate, And thinking of easy victory, elate, Upon her sleeping targe rang his fell lance. O laughing lad, who didst leave the greensward dance. The homely round of meadow and of byre. The plough-boy ' s whistle and the winter fire, To meet the foeman ' s lunge with bayonet glance. Quenched was thy laughter ; e ' en forgot thy name, Through grim years ' agony the fight was won. Lighting their path by thy glory ' s radiance. The living brought thee from the field of flame, And laid thee, Poilu, by Napoleon : Boy of the broken body, thou = rt France. M. Page 112 i