Arlington High School - Stillaguamish Trail Yearbook (Arlington, WA)

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SENIOR POEM B sharp, B natural, but never be flat. Did you ever hear tell of a motto like that? It is ours—the Seniors—we live up to the letter— You’ll look a long time ere you find a class better. B sharp, B natural, but never be flat, As Freshmen we’d have laughed at that— As Sophomores we knew lots more Great value, then, it held in store. B sharp, B natural, but never be flat, As Juniors we were proud of that, We worked with vim and played with zest And took our places among the best. B sharp, B natural, but never be flat, We’re Seniors now because of that; Ere long we’ll leave this dear old High For graduation now is nigh. B sharp, B natural, but never be flat, We’ll get thru the world because of that; And this is the message we leave to you With a rousing cheer for the Gold and Blue. —MABEL HOLLINGSWORTH.

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So it was for generations. Students coming, students going— So it was that our class found it In the year of nineteen eighteen. Once again came tribes and nations Maids and warriors bent on learning— Came the Oso-ites and Pilchucks, Came the Jim Creeks and the Bryants, Came the Edgecombs and the Traftons, Came the Normans and Silvanas. ’Twas with eager steps they came here. Ready wit and hands all willing, Gladly did they hear the message Which many moons and winters past Spake the God of Wisdom, fondly To the warriors ’round his camp fire. But the fir trees overheard him And, lest one word be forgotten, Softly, thru’ the generations, Whisper’d it to all the four winds. Which in turn, to do their duty. Told it well to every student; This the subject dearest to them This in memory of our great chief: “I have given you science and music, I have given you brawn and muscle, I have given you foreign language, I have given you literature; I have taught you how to figure, Taught you how to read the Heavens, Yes, and how to help your neighbor. All things, great and small, I gave you, Left them here at your disposal. To be used as best might please you.” Thus our band of maids and warriors The graduates of twenty-two Heard the message—wisely heeded— Closer drew as though confiding, And their colors flew on high, Cream and Crimson marked their battles, All triumphant was their cry: “Wise owl, who, who?” Then the fir trees softly echoed, “One-nine-two-two.” 17 IRIS DUSKIN, ’22.

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