Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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(ll}t Mountain Sk ' pbmVss By ROBERTA BLUNDEN, ’24 (FIRST AWARD) From far in the valley to high in the hills, Rode Jasper of Winkle, beyond rocks and rills. And there, ’neatli the skyline, a bonny maid sat, With a thistledown veil and a daffodil hat. Her hair it was shining like tresses of gold, Her face like the morning of beauty untold. But, alas! were her garments all tattered and torn, And ne’er were a maiden more sad and forlorn. 1 prithee, sweet maid,” did Jasper inquire, “Oh where are thy flocks, and where thy good sire?” “Alas!” cried the maiden, “my flocks they have run, My father has leit me, his days they are done. ‘I’ve wandered and searched beneath thorn-tree and brier, To gather my flocks for my poor aged sire. But they’ve wandered afar and left me alone, ‘Without any kin, and without any home.” 1 ben Jasper of Winkle, with love all aflame, Bethought him to offer his heart and his hame. Come hither, my sweetheart, and come hame with me, For thou art the fairest I ever did see.” She blushed and she smiled and she gave him her hand, b or well was she pleased to be queen of his land. Then straightway he mounted her on his white steed, Vnd walked all beside her adown to the mead. PAGE 22

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bright stars. She kissed her mother and said, 4 ‘Mother, I have seen a fairy.” “A what?” ejaculated mother. “Yes,” said Isabel, and brightly added, “Mother, dear, I didn’t know before that fairies were little kindnesses we do to others.” Then Isabel asked as a last thought to see if she were correct, “When we do kindnesses and are happy, they are the fairies we see. isn’t it that way, mother?” Mother did not answer for a minute, but only nodded her head. Then she very quickly stooped and gathered Isabel in her arms and whispered: “Now, dearie, are you happy that you know what fairies PAGE: 21

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Cfoiliqfyt in Apple Slnssmn CLinto By MARIAN SHATTO, ’25 (SECOND AWARD) At night I love to wander Where the apple blossoms are; Where the streamlet, rippling o’er the stones, Reflects the evening star. The sun is slowly sinking, Sending rays of light Far into the evening sky, Then fading into night. The Lady Moon is rising, Silv’ry, round and low; Breezes set the shadows dancing On the ground below. Sweet perfume of the blossoms Is wafted on the breeze, The last faint twitter of the birds Comes softly through the trees. Artists could not paint that scene, Poets could not rhyme The beauty of the orchard In apple blossom time. PAGE 23