Adrian High School - Sickle Yearbook (Adrian, MI)

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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.

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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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Slowly he drinks in the beauty, And feasts on its lovliness fair 3 Then raises his kindly glance, Till it rests on the weaver there. 'LWoman, well have you done, And will have for your toil due rewardf, But e'en as he speaks these kind words, She knelt at the feet of her lord. Cl Master, do not speak so, I would it were better made, I would 'twere without one blemish, Faultless in each tint and shade. LK But you have not seen that flaw, And the thread has been broken here g And there is another defect, Tho' I fixed each, as I thought, with care. There the colors are not so well blended g Many another fault I see g Heaven knows how hard I have tried, Pray, be not angry with mef' Then turn not away, but in coura Low bows the head of the weaver, Tears come to her heavy eyes, Then the Prince addresses the woman, And gently he bids her arise. l'Alas! you see each imperfection, The smallest fault and break 3 But in one whole pattern of beauty, Should I censure for one mistake? Patiently have you labored, Toiled on with unceasing care, To reprove for a snap of a thread Would indeed be unjust and unfair. Each one of us is a weaver, Guiding the looin of his life, Weaving in light and shade, Weaving in joy and strife. And whether the warp of our lives Seems dark in its shadow and gloom Or bright in the sunshine of peace, 'Tis a heavenly plan-not our own. ge VVCHVC 011, Thy true efforts exalted shall be In the eyes of the Father of Love, When He cometh, thy life work to see. u