Biddeford High School - Olympian Yearbook (Biddeford, ME)

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34 THE OLYMPIAN not get me out, so I have lain in this same spot for about four years now, through the cold of winter, and the heat of summer. My life has not been a happy one. I have had no exciting experiences. I have changed from the bright shiny penny that I was on March l, l928, to a dull brown pennyg my date is nearly worn off. All I can do now is to wait and hope that the porch under which I am lying will be torn down some day, and that l will be rescued. James Tarpy, '40. ,-mlm SPRING in the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. Knock! Knock! Who is there? That is Spring knocking at our doors. As we open them and look out, there is a wonderful sight to behold. The sunlight upon the green grass, which was covered with snow so long, shines into our brightened faces. The trees are slowly budding and showing their enjoyment of Spring as they swing to and fro in its warm breeze. The various birds are arriving and they may be seen hopping about the lawns, seach- ing for food. All these sights may be seen from our doorway: but as we travel farther, we see hanging upon maple trees bright silver pails in which the sap is dripping. Children may be seen around the streets playing base-ball, marbles, jumping rope, riding bicycles, and roller-skating. Only two weeks ago we could see the grown-ups and children all wrapped up in winter clothing. As we look about now, we see little children in short stockings and dressesg the grown-ups have shed their winter coats and have put on jackets and thinner dresses. ln the Spring, with all these different changes, the streets are brightened by all the colors of the rainbow. Spring also means a general clean-up for everyone. Father is to clean the shed and attic, brother is to rake and roll the lawn, while sister and mother are to stay in and clean the house. Lovers may be seen walking together arm in arm. Everyone is happy and gay. E.. Stone, '38, ,li-l. THIRTY-EIGHT We, the class of thirty-eight, Seniors now and quite sedate, Think upon the four years past, Eour years of joy--too short to last. The first year Freshmen-Oh! so green! Was not that year the best we'd seen? Or so we thought 'til as Sophomores Again we passed through our school doors. As Juniors felt we best of all, Where we answered Biddeford's call. But time marched on-our fourth year came, And Seniors all, we played the game. Now all too soon we near the end, And graduation comes to send Thoughts of sadness and real regret To bring tears that our lashes wet. And when we leave old Biddeford High, 'Twill hurt us all to say good-bye To each and every one of youg Teachers, schoolmates tried friends and true. But we'll return in later days, And walk again these well-known waysg As proud Alumni-to all we'll state: We are the class of thirty-eight. D. Hopkins. OUR SONG. Into my saddened heart there steals A melancholy strain. From out the night it comes to me Like lonely drops of rain. Its melody so rare reveals Something I must regain. Its pleading haunts my memory A mournful, rich refrain. 'Twas long ago I heard that song Along a lonely way. I fell beneath its magic spell, This rhythm sadly gay. I hear it now still sounding strong So like that distant day. 'Cause in my heart 'twill always dwell A beautiful rose of May., R. Chenard, '38.

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