Hilmar High School - Waukeen Yearbook (Hilmar, CA)

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Literary Efforts THE SANDSTORM Dismally howling it sweeps o'er the plaing Devouring the soil that is thirsty for rain, Darkening the sky, so one cannot lseeg Wreaking its vengeance, it seemeth to me, Then calming down and seeking its rest, Just as the sun sinks into the west. Florence Rossi. THE MORNING When the golden rays of daybreak Spread o'er the earth their hueg When the sun doth rise from slumbering And smiles on fields of dewg When the rippling mountain brook Leaps in the morning sun, And glides thru every nook, And shaded, mossy rung Then the glories of the morning Seem to spread in golden rays. O'er all the earth -- glad morning Is the youth of all the days! Helen Woolman. M O ONLIGHT A moonlit evening out on a lonely river shore. Trees gently swishing their branches. A moon, large and silvery, surrounded by countless, silent stars in a. deep, dark, blue sky. An occasional splash in the river from a playful fishy the merry chirping of crickets and the startling screech of a night hawk. In the lull of these voices, the lonely call of a coyote across the open field. Araminta Bruton. 30

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NSIWHSEIHJI LIHJ,

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BY THE SEASHORE O, beautiful shell by the seashore, All silver and blue and gold, 0 beautiful shell by the seashore What secrets do you hold? Tell me, you who are rainbow hued, You who seem fearless and free, You who are salt spray bestrewed, And live by the changeable sea, Tell me, O shell by the seashore, Shall I have beauty like thee? When I've been washed on life's seashore By the Waves of life's changeable sea? Helen Woolman. AUTUMN LEAVES Like birds of the air they are flying around, Crimson and yellow, they fall to the ground. Here they will stay and never more waken, But go back to the earth, from whence they were taken. Florence Rossi. A PICTURE Nature was painting a picture. Red, yellow, blue, and white were the contents of her paint-box. She ran her brush in a half circle, two or three times over a back ground of blue sky daubed with white fluffy clouds. A few more light touches of the brush and behold! the rainbow in her seven colors, the pathway to the pot of gold. Finally it began to grow fainter and fainter, a.nd finally disappeared, folded and lost in the recesses of fleecy clouds and azure sky. Florence Rossi. 31