Katherine Delmar Burke School - Works and Days Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 33 text:

Miss BURKE's SCHOOL B a c ky a 1' cl s ROM my window is a most excellent view of choice backyards. A1 X I believe they are even more choice than the average. They I x range in size from that of a tennis court to that of a chicken It coop, which would cramp the style of any self-respecting ytx . ,lil bird. They are of various stages of unkemptness, having in zg 3 most cases a decoration of weeds around the rose-bushes, and 7,38 , '-cc, ch1ldren's toys around the walks. : 'F ' - There is usually a medium-sized woman of Swedish extrac- tion or a large person of decided Irish tendencies hanging out dank and murky looking garments of questionable character. All the backyards in our neighborhood shelter cats, nondescript and otherwise. However, it may be a natural tendency for backyards to shelter cats, but why they should choose our neighborhood as a club-room is not understood by the inhabitants of the houses claiming the backyards. All the cats possess voices which they apparently consider operatic. They perch upon the various fences of the various backyards and proceed to prove it by extending selections of passionate love-songs, funeral dirges, and wedding marches. These charmers are immediately deluged by a rain of bars of laundry soap, water Chot and coldj, and a general assortment of old shoes which lend beauty and picturesqueness to the backyard in which they alight. Backyards are a varied and unusal, and, indeed, always interesting subject for study. FRANCES ToM1.1NsoN, '23, l3Il

Page 32 text:

WORKS AND DAYS ' with his handkerchief. At last the moment arrived, and William, according to plan, was to take Thelma in his arms. But the handkerchief! Hastily he stuffed it back in his pocket, and managed without catastrophe to get Thelma settled, with her head on his left shoulder, the comb protruding into his face like a fan. He held her so a moment until he was sure of the next step, and then became panic stricken. He was going to sneeze, and his trusty handkerchief was in his pocket, and Thelma's clinging form was pressed against that particular pocket. He couldn't reach it by any strategy, and the desire to sneeze grew more and more with his attempts to suppress it. He trembled in agony, and the comb in Thelma's hair trembled with him. There was no escape. He shut his eyes and held his breath and awaited the inevitable. The edge of the comb brushed his nose, and subconsciously, reaching out for anything steady to support him in his hour of humiliation, he pressed his nose against it with vigor not realizing what he did, when suddenly, miraculously, the sneeze departed whence it had come. His trem- bling left and he was again a masterful man. Thelma raised her head and gazed at him, marveling. What it was to be loved like that! So much that her nearness made him tremble with ecstasy. Oh, William, she sighed adoringly. ISABEL SHERMAN, ,2I. The Standard A The times have changed and men have changed, The bold knight is no more. The prancing steed, the feathered helm Is now but fairy lore. On some dark wall of castle old A lance and sword of steel Still mark the spot where conqueror young Made Victory his seal. The times have changed and men have changed, A war of wits we fight, Yet Victory shall be the crest Of him who fights for Right. BEATRICE WILLIAMS, '23, lsol

Page 34 text:

WORKS AND DAYS The Day s there anyone to whom it has never come, and perhaps -1 N some, often-the Uday? Certainly there isn't a boy in the :X world who has not felt it and felt it strong. ff.,-. It is the rainy winter day that gets some, or the warm 72x - xiii. . day in summer, but for me it's a day in early spring, so clear Zigi you can see the Faralones from Sutro Heights and the tiny 2' S Na black smoke stacks peaking above the horizon beyond. It's M a cold day, though the sun is bright, when an icy Wind is blowing a gale from the ocean and on it the smell of the salt is strong and penetrating. It rushes across the blue, blue water and catches the edges of the rolling waves, lashing them into snow-white foam. It whips your skirts in every direction and drives invigoratingly against your face till you tingle from head to foot. Away off in the bright blue sky are puffs of cloud racing along with lightning speed. Then I want to get out alone and run up the long, wet beach in the blowing foam and the Hying sand, with the breakers coming in mountains high, and the grey winged sea- gulls whirling and screaming overhead. Then I am as glorious and happy as they. They say it's wild and I should know better, but it simply gets you when your day comes! MIRIAM EBRIGHT, P. G. The ebbing me if Deep as the starry waters of the night, And as the moonlight glancing o'er the lea, Swiftly as dewy zephyrs in their flight My tide of life is ebbing out to sea. The shadows deepen into somber gray, The nightingale trills out its heaven-sent plea, Resistless as the moon-bathed waves at play My tide of life is ebbing out to sea. An awe-inspiring silence nearer creeps, Yielding its soothing message unto me So as the gull which, trusting, seaward sweeps My tide of life is ebbing out to sea. ANNE COPE, '2.6 l32l