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

Page 27 text:

Works Cv- Bays i' LAF CAD IO The sound of excitement Hlled the air as the ruddy faced men prepared the nets and baskets at Fisherman's Wharf, for today the fishing fleet was to sail for the first catch of the season. Lafcadio D'Annunzio, the best beloved of the young fishermen, stood by the door of his rude house, a few blocks away, bidding his wife Ilena goodbye. He was tall of stature and his usually gay, black eyes had a tinge of sadness in them. Don't worry about me, Ilena. I'l1 be all right. Really. Oh, but Lafcadio, look how black the clouds are and how murky and sullen the sea is. Although he knew the sea and sky were threatening in appearance, and a bad storm from the south was brewing, he feigned innocence of this knowledge. There, Ilena, let's forget about it, and remember, when I return I promise to go to Halfmoon Bay with you. Tenderly he kissed her and then strode quickly to the wharf, where he climbed into the hatch of the Golden City. The small crafts, with their gasoline engines sputtering, tugged vainly at their hawsers. Finally the word was given and they sailed, one by one, out of the harbor. No sooner were they beyond The Heads, than the storm struck. Tor- rential rain beat down against the craft as it pitched and rolled in the tempestuous sea. Look out! Here it comes . . . but before he could finish, Lafcadio was hurled unmercifully into the seething water. Frantically he groped about in the darkness and grasped at a piece of driftwood that lunged toward him from the battered boat. His bruised and slippery hands took hold of it and with a last spark of energy he clung to it. Frantically he held on, but his battered body could stand no more. His grip loosened and slowly he sank from sight. Early the next morning, as the sun was rising from behind the eastern hills, the fishing fleet came slowly into the bay. With heavy hearts the men fastened the hawsers and walked slowly to the fish exchange, for Lafcadio, their Lafcadio, had gone into the West, never to return again. ANITA RODIEK, Ac. IV. H-1:-' -'IG' ,fee QSX-

Page 26 text:

Worksdailays 'A' EBB TIDE With her white face full of agony Under her dripping locks, I hear the wretched restless sea, Complaining to the rocks. Helplessly in her great despair She shudders on the sand, The dull weeds dropping from her hair, And they pale shells from her hand. It is sad to see her lie in the dreary deep, With her beating, heaving breast, Sobbing herself to sleep, Here where she seeks her rest. Alas! for the sea, tired and lone, Why was there none to say The wave that strikes on the water-worn stone Must unfold and fall away. BETTY JEAN SHANEDLING, Ac. II .-49. Dark waters on a moonlit night, My only thought is that I should sink beneath your cool Glitter and find what is hidden In that billowing carpet . . . Every movement tells of The enchantment and the Mystic beauty, lying on the Other side of that Liquid sapphire wall . . . HERMINE KING, F -:fix-:ff I Zfi'-'f EBRUARY, Ac. IV

Page 28 text:

Works Ctr Days I 'A' SEAL LULLABY Hush-a-bye seal, Sleep in the bay, Do not awaken 'Til the end of the day. MARISA TRAINA, PRIM. IV l0T Who fashions Waves? Teaches them to play, To dance and sing? Who tells them When 'Tis time to leap and roar, To dash upon a rocky shore- Or when to lie serenely still, At peace with all the world, A mirror for God's heavens? LOUISE HENLEY, AC. IV .LGT THANKFUL I'm thankful that I run and play. I'm thankful that I see. I'm thankful for my mouth and ears, For all that God gave me. LUCY HARRISON, PRIM. IV. 'JE' iii