Banning High School - San Gorgonian Yearbook (Banning, CA)

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A cA Railroad Accident T last we were on the train. We had forgotten to buy our tickets at the station and had to pay ten per cent. more for them on the train. Just as father handed the tickets to the conductor, there was a crash at the front of the train. The jar took the conductor, who was shaped like a deformed barrel, by surprise and he tumbled to the floor. I have learned since that this was caused by the tendency of a body in motion to remain in motion unless influenced by some outside force. We were not concerned by the theory then and made a rush for the door. When we arrived outside we found that a freight train had crashed against our train and our train got the worst of it. Several win- dows were broken but no one was seriously hurt. EDGAR McALLISTER, ’20. cMy Garden My garden bed’s a riot of glorious bloom! Beneath the breath of May’s sweet breeze, Graceful hollyhocks stand in a stately row Rainbow-tinted sweet peas climb o’er the fence; The pansy and the violet beds are all aglow, And marigolds along the graveled walks Lift up their heads to catch the morning dew; The incense from the china lilies fair, Is wafted slowly on the balmy air, To lure and hold the busy honey bee. FRANCES GILMAN, ’17. PAGE TWELVE

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Workin’ Dad I N ’rithmetic at school our teacher, Miss Lunker, give us a nawful hard lesson. One of them problems was turible, none of us boys could work it ’tall. When supper was over I asked dad if he’d work it fer me. He sed, “Of course I will,” so I got my ’rithmetic an’ slate an’ he started out ter work it fer me. Purty soon he took off his coat an’ collar. Thin I kind a slipped ’round behind ’im ter see ther fun. He worked fer ’while more, thin he ®) begin ter perspire turible an’ jest kind a looked at it fer ’bout fifteen minutes. After he’d bin lookin’ that way fer so long, he pulled out his watch’n looked at it and said he had to go down town. He didn’t get home ’til I was plum ’sleep either’n he was gone next moren’ afor I got awake. RAYMOND HENDRICKS, ’20. © Blank Verse Were you ever in Banning in Spring-time? When brown trees blossom forth in their splendor Of snowy blossoms, fairy pink and white. The almond first in clustering flowers rare, The apricot and peach do follow hard Upon, and then so many others come, ] I think a mighty volume would not hold ) ) The beauties of our little town, untold. The johnny-jump-ups, little violets,— The delicate, dainty, baby-blue eyes,— While yellow poppies change the fields to gold. Thus California flowers wondrous fine, Do help to make this little country town Most beautiful, the ever loved, Banning. MAY HARGRAVE. PAGE ELEVEN

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“Tales of a Mermaid Tavern” ACAULAY describes poetry as “the art of doing by means of words what the painter does by means of colours.” Of this art Noyes’ work is surely a wonderful example. A continual change of style is one way by which he obtains this effect. He imitates the different styles of poetry that are related to what he is talking about; for songs he has a style, for each poet another, and for every occasion a separate and distinct style. He has pic- tures wonderfully painted. Take for an example, “Under that foggy sunset London glowed, Like one huge cob-webbed flagon of old wine!” Where could you find this thought more fitly or beautifully expressed? In weird descriptions Noyes seems to excel. He relates the story of the burial of a queen. On the way to the burial, at mid night, the ghosts of the dead queen’s admirers surround the cof- fin, singing “like the night wind” in the “enormous silence” of the black mysterious night. Again they are “Bowed shadows weeping, Weeping, weeping, weeping, in a grief That still was built of silence, like the drip Of water from a frozen fountain head.” Again, in this wail from a murderer’s heart, Noyes by means of his understanding of human nature and his great ability in por- traying it accurately and poetically, makes us feel the despair and remorse of the man. “Somebody has taught The sea gulls how to wail around my hut All night like lost souls, and there is a face, A dead man’s face that laughs in every storm, And sleeps in every pool, along the coast.” i In sharp contrast to this is the mirthful portrait of the king, which, although not full of beautiful poetry, nevertheless gives a vivid picture, showing how Noyes is able to understand and paint PAGE THIRTEEN