Adrian High School - Sickle Yearbook (Adrian, MI)

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every other, making it an object of grace and beauty. By day it sparkles with a lustre unseen before, by night its radiance is still brighter. Clouds of persecution gather and burst in fury over it, but it is not wrecked. In the darkest nights alld fiercest storms of adversity the trusty pilot guides it over the deep waters, as it is now borne to a billoW's crest, now engulfed in its trough, and finally he brings the boat safely into the harbor. This true life-boat, unlike the other boats on life's sea, is free for all who choose to launch it. It is safe, no storm can harm it. It has been prepared by Him who walked upon the waters and said to the raging billows, Peace, be still! NHNC LASS PO EM++++++ Florence Bennett. eleoieeledfdfalealealesledfaledeaieeie Slowly the streets ofthe city Are rid of their busy throng, Hushed is the noisy clamor, And the Work of the laborer, done. Silently night descends And enfolds in her loving embrace The countless thousands of toilets- The bread winners of our race. Quiet broods o'er the city, Rest glides into each home g Sleep comes to tired mortals, For another day's work is done. Yet not so does restful slumber Close the eyes of every one, For in one low raftered room The weaver weaves on and on.

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it. When any other boat would be overwhelmed by the del- uging waters, this craft rises triumphant, and sweeps on to the rescue. Thus, after many attempts, the requirements of the complete and perfect life-boat of the real sea seem to be fulfilled. But there are other life-boats which ride upon another sea whose waters rise and surge, whose shores are rocky, and whose reefs are high. Our life-boats toss upon the vast and boundless sea of time. This wonderful expanse is dotted with boats differing in size and form and hue. The young are dancing in skiffs upon the pellucid shallowsf' The boats of those just beginning 1ife's battle are tossed from their chains, and strike out gallantly from the shore. Each is seeking a boat which will carry him safely, and, perhaps, grandly over the waters which lie before him, a boat which shall be to him a true life-boat. The first which appears gliding by is a boat of Wealth. Its prow of burnished gold fiashes in the sunlight. Many look with envy upon the fair ship which bears the owner to every clime and gives to him its luxuries-to lands where beautiful flowers bloom, where the waters of the fountain play, and where the sculptor shapes the unhewn marble into living statues. It is also strong to brave many storms assail- ing character and reputation, for gold can cover a multitude of sins. But the sky finally darkens, clouds riven by flashes of lightning, hover above the once prosperous ship. Deprived of the former armor-wealth, it cannot withstand the fierce blasts, and is swept away in the midst of a financial storm. This cannot be the true life boat. But another is seen riding upon the surface. In the dis- tance it appears like a shell hanging upon the feathery crest of a wave. As it iioats idly nearer, we discern bright banners waving from its mast. The sound of merry voices, and the music of harps are borne from the deck. Gay forms flit about. Such is the boat of Pleasure. Its occupant has no aim and no plans for the future, and therefore neglects to guide his ship from the coming dangers. In the midst of his folly his frail bark strikes the reef and is instantly shattered. Still another boat passes before our view. There are few like it upon the entire sea, for it is the boat of fame, and the goddess is sparing of her brilliant gifts. The sails are unfurled wider and still wider, and the ship speeds over its way so swiftly that it seems scarcely to touch the surface. It escapes all obstacles and pursues its course so easily that the world gazes in admiration. Yet this mad career is finally checked when, by fair means or by foul, he who guides it seems almost at his goal. The waves of popular opinion, once so calm, now surge and with one vast billow the boat of Fame is gone. The next boat to appear is that of Knowledge. It is not boastful, but quietly asserts its strength and power. Pearls of priceless value glisten in the sunlight. The helmsman sails through waters traversed long ago or seeks for new paths, dis- covering new mysteries. Still, though much to be desired, there is a storm which even this can never hope to outride- the last, the final storm of life. Let us look further for the model life-boat which is to resist and overcome all dangers of life. Yonder another is moving upon the waters, so light and so firm, it seems as if it were made to pass through every storm and to cope with every billow. No fiaunting colors are displayedg it does not need them for every part is fitted to

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Pale is the face, and sad From many a sorrow and care, Yet beneath her skillful fingers Grows the pattern wondrously fair. 'Twas a curtain of exquisite texture, To be made for the Prince of the land. In months past this service of love Was entrusted to this weaver's hand. Now the last day is come, Now is the hour drawing near When the care-wor11 toiler must bow To her master in reverent fear. With the greatest of care and patience, Must the woman guide the loom, That the morrow may find it completed- Made ready for his royal home. How deftly she plies the shuttle, As only an artist can g Then reversing, continues the motion, And repeats it again and again. Prettily mingle the colors, As in the design they are blended 3 Pleasing beyond compare, The beauty the pattern presented. United in charming effect Are the many varied hues, The lightest tints and the shades, Dainty pink to the deepest blues. But, ah! the thread has broken: Yet 'twill be mended with care, And the Prince, admiring the grace Of the piece, worked out with care, Scarce will notice the tiny blemish, Will o'erlook the little fault, As he views with kindest approval The curtain so wondrously wrought. Again and again, threads are broken, But each is mended with skill, Till at last the piece is completed, And the weaver awaits her lord's will. Day dawns, and the brightness of morning Has hope in its every ray 5 Seems whispering to the weaver, Woman, the Prince comes this day. There's a knock at the door of the cottage, And with reverence humble and meet, She receives 'neath her roof the great Prince And the curtain she spreads at his feet.