Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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WESTMONT HILL A hill rises with leafy trees, Each one a lovely shade of greeng While through this avenue we pass, A crowded town below is seen. When finally the height We gain And gaze once more upon the town, May we bidi others come and view The hilltop in her bright green gown. Oh, may our aims he ever high Through forests green, up mountains steepg Success in mounting to the top Is giving others goals to keep. -Betty Will. THE HILLS OF JOHNSTOWN Tonight let me dream of a beautiful sight Of curving hills with swaying trees, Absorhing the rays of the moon by night, Soothed hy the cool, delicious hreeze. The soft night Wind is full of dreams, And I am seeing once again The maple leaves with dewy gleams Through the silver and mist of young spring rain Oh, hills, smoke-clad or of rain-washed green, No more will my eyes Hnd a measure of rest Where the moon sends a copper or golden sheen Till dear old Johnstown will he my quest. -Stephen J. Zbrozek. war:-give:-Q4':1A':t.f,-:gn i:g'v-Qpqwq-rg' 4-141.1 1: rul.: rvs!ziQ2v-H':wr 'J'Nr-L-vom'-4-54:14-:strand +A- l'H14CnLf1'-fx-vl5x3 :1awf1r a-u-or x wap ww s-- -wg TCR 'I935 v

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OFFICE BUILDING Huge mass of stone, Stately you stand. You keep a soher face from day to day, But you peer at us with your many glassy eyes Called windows. If you could only speak, Many tales would you tell Of argument, business transactions, Of cries from the dentistis office, Of the skillful fingers of the doctors, Of hands which beautify the human face And glorify the hair, Of the sighs of the tired stenographer Counting the seconds till quitting time, The dignified gait of the lawyers, doctors, and bankers As they leave their offices for the last time this day. The scurrying of the employees, the typists, Tailors, hair dressers, and office boys! To the nearest street car stop they go, Happy once more to be on their way home. Now at last, O huge mass of stone, You are free to think while eating. Do you eat from that huge red bowl, The water tank which stand on three legs on the next huilding? You may eat in peace now With no clickings of typewritcrs, now to disturh you, Nor cries from the dentistis chair, nor Lawyers arguing with their clients. The hum from the elevator shaft has lessened. Everything is still. At last, O monster, you are closing your eyes For a long night's rest, Or is it the janitor pulling down your hlinds? -Michael Curry. '3'-'Z ' 4 - 5-7 ?'i'Q'7'GW-9 4'?16fS- ff T' ::f'?f?i'4'V- -1' 09' i 1, 'V 3 bf-lGZ ? Y' 43 !5 :s.4'1T 'i'C'?f2'e-i4 Q?5' ' THE SPECTA 1

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nf-- 4. THE HOME ON THE HILL A weary, winding thread Is weaving up the hillg In solemn peace, the dead Sleep on, their voices still. And through the ancient arch, Around the sinuous curves, On past the ivied church, The dark procession swerves. The lillies sadly droop, The grasses gleam with dew, A bird's complaining note, A granite world in view. There lies the Unknown Plot, Unending seems each row, No more the flood tides, wrath, Forgotten all their woe. -Halcolm Bard. MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS ON TI-IE INCLINE It was dreary in the town, But as I ascended the mountain, The gray mist took on the semblance Of the white drapery or dreams covering the sleeping children In the heaven. Cod had remembered The infant angels, and for fear one might awake, He hung out the stars For light. -Alice Davis. i I1 ' LP : , if -xiii-'-4 45-1 - 7 -'wa -2',--Q-ron-L-ug an-5.n - 3 x,,,c-'u,y,saa43-,34ai. :.xr,..a-Vai., ' THE SPECTA