Cleveland High School - Beacon Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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The The No longer do We fight for gain. We hunger, thirst, and hug this earth. Still do the bullets bite and kill And tear the mortal flesh apart, Still do the smells of death remain And groans of dying fill the air. Does vict'ry come from loss, defeat? Is hope thus born of blackened earth? Or will all earthly life now cease Upon the brink of vanity? father speaks .' These things full Well I know, my son, I'm not too blind as now to see The fearful weather thus to come. I'm not too dull as now to hark The jeering laugh, the hopeless sigh. Come from your shell of self-concern! Dream not Within your morbid soul Of what could be, but of what is, Of barren ground, of bleak gray sky, Under which a friend does lie. Is it in vain, this solemn death? Is now the cause we fought for lost Because the foe has triumphed still? Up from the grave some fretful night Will come to us a long dead ghost And in revengeful Wrath will say, I died in vain, my cause you lostg I died in vain, my cause you lost. Think, my son, of conscience now, Can this be borne throughout your life Questioning the God's own Word? 'Tis better now to die, and live Than now to live, and later die. For even if in War We perish No empty phrase shall mark our grave But greater still, a noble death Advancing further freedom's cause. Nay, not in this so falter, son, For falt'ring now is later loss. son speaks : Forgive me, father, not were mine Those empty Words untimely born Of lips so sick of endless War. e But now I see a picture bright, The fog is gone, the sky is clear. 19

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The The The cilzghlf Oh, China . son speaks: Oh, my father, why fight we on When iight we now so many years? So many men have I killed thus With knife, with gun, with strength of hand. Is there some reason? None I know. What be there gained, save death and death And still retreat to deeper lines? Once and twice and thrice thus we Have fought and turned and run as hard. Or is there now a joy in death When heroes fall, for honor saved? They fear not death by knife nor gun, But face the foe with dauntless eyes. This cannot be, this hollow fame. Not so we fight in this my world, But fight for things, for food, for life, But fight we on despite lost hope. father speaks .' I know this too this dark despairg It twangs and burns the heart of me. For seven years I too have fought To fall, go back, and back again. At first I thought adventure nigh To raise and hold a gun on high. But once was mine the bitter taste Of enemy, of war, of death, There was no longer zeal for praise, But greater love for country now. When once I saw the foe's dread deeds, Revenge burned high and higher still Till not tenfold their number dead Would satisfy my bloody soul! son speaks : Raise not again the bloody past 'Tis bitterness enough for me To know that dead are friend and foe, To see again a mad man's dreams. Can we endure this hellish rain: For still we are but mortals now Condemned for time to earthly lot. 18

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What all we fight so nobly for Is outlined in a symbol clear. Undying cause forefathers held Is ours today, if only be The courage ours to stand and cope, To be as mountain 'gainst the sea, To be henceforth the watered tree, To lose its leaves as winter comes, Each spring again to rise in bloom. I see so well, my father, now, The back is not quite broken yet. The father speaks: To higher ground, my son, my son. The fight is long, the iight is hard, But fight on still with all your strength. 'Tis not a mortal cause we fight, A cause for wealth or power's gain, But something greater, greater still, The right of man to equal beg A certainty for future man, His life shall be a warless one Lived in freedom's own delight These things our life so hangs upon Will ne'er release this bond from us. Though conquered be our holy earth, Still not has been in vain our fight. For though our cause this year has failed In hearts and words shall it live on, Until one day this China ours, Is of the freemen's holy race. MAYNARD SHELLY - Term Five. ,lime o!fAe my .iZ5gna5f7 The tag merely stated, a vase of the Ming Dynasty. It stood there in the show case in which it was placed. In what other place or places had it stood in years gone by? Was it made by slave, peasant, or palace artisan? Did it adorn a temple, garden, or throne room? Perhaps a priestess daily filled it with incense. The intricate design gives the onlooker the feeling of being in a gar- den of lotus blossoms, camel-back bridges, and moon gates. Perhaps a maiden made it her duty to fill it with peach blossoms. I wonder how it feels to forever stand glassed in for the eyes of the world to gaze upon it. Gone are the temples, the palaces, the gardens that surrounded it, only a glass show case with a tag stating, A Vase of the Ming Dynasty. EDMOND DUTHER - Term Five. zo l