Central High School - Red and Black Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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Twenty-two WH O? By Emil S. Brock. '34 fCourtesy, St. Louis Timesh A boy sat in his lonely chair. Before him, on paper his thoughts lay He bowed his head and wept in dread, And shivered at the curfew's tread. He raised his head and looked about, Caressing his papers with care devout: He was not a poet or boy gone mad: He was just a high-school freshman lad. 1' KWIFAI fig, QFD? psig WIHIIIIWWW bare It ':'1 I :W L ' I lwyylxl X 1. ,Ny ll V i I Ulmifi' Mill, l t'l'f itl it ml H tl J H1 i QM, Mimi sygy ' 'WH' L'I'WWH11l',, ' if I ',ULW1 wN M11'wN XVI 'him 1' wth' ld N- will :yu I LIE Nw J' ul' it it wt' lt at it 1 ll ll um tri ,ll ,l I 'iw ,lj in ' Nl ' ll ' ' l ilu, H J ,ll l. ' K ' 0 LL om-xoxfoma L PHEQS FRST Y EAR-

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-?f is wit ? 1 pl rl me stlltifiniil , i. ..'- U AX. Q .rx ,nr it ,',..- p kg. In -N -, ',-- -. 5 t W4 A Hg Q,,:yg ,'1h::4,.55g? I I in g 3 N5 Liga- . . Z ., Irsu . .- tn . .5 ff A lhk. t - .,, 'lf Y I I .i , ti X f , i - R , WHILE si FI f-I '1ll...:lllll -ill., 'HH , 7:'! ...' l lIll:lll...f 'i H A' 'lll- F 1553 U W, X 1 llllllllllllmllllllilllll1 llll in ll unllllllllllllll Ill IIIUIK Ilfllh llxllllllllllll To complete their happiness, they re- ceived a letter from the man who was in charge of the state, informing him he would receive a captain's pay and respect until he was old enough to take up active THE I ml l s umm umm lvlllllll Lwllmluw l1ilIll'.Il!lIlil!W 'HW mmtlllml in ulnllllll llllllllll11lMlIl duty. On the amount he received from the government, his mother and he lived comfortably until he was eighteen, when he was old enough to become a real cap- tain and take up captain's duties. KISS By Ethel Mastin. '34 One autumn night a small bright leaf Danced on a tall old tree, And as she danced, a gay young man Came tripping o'er the lea. Kind Sir, who are you? asked the leaf. Said he, My name is Jackg Give me a kiss from your red lips, And I will give it back. And so alas this foolish leaf, Did grant him his one boon, And she crumpled grownward. brown ana' dead. Beneath the harvest moon. SUMMERXS GHOST By Arthur Roux, '34 Who in February has not thought of summer? And has not sat and dreamed of the things gone past? While the sleet rattles on the roof overhead, And the ire burns in the furnace below stairs. Then summer comes softly and without footsteps like a ghost. Twenty-one

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