Mechanic Arts High School - M Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

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JUNE, 1925 T H E M 17 A Page of Sonnets Sonnet By EVERETT HAEDECKE To the School Boy Reading His History The sounding battles leave him nodding still, The din of javelins at the distant wall ls far too faint to wake that weary will, He little cares, for cities when they fall. He cares not if this Helen's face were fair, Nor if the thousand ships shall go or stay: In vain the rumbling chariots throng the air With sounds the centuries shall not hush away. Beyond the window where the Spring is new, Are marbles in a square, and tops again And floating voices tell him what they do, And lure his thought from these long-war- ring men, And though his vision history still clogs, He dreams of marbles and of tops, and dogs. Sonnet to the Children By JAMES DUNN Hark as the children play so merrily, They never have the slightest bit of fear. With voices high, they laugh so happily And often scorn the warnings they may hear. They play as all small children love to do, From morn until the dusk at evening falls, They very often disobey, 'tis true, But yet they always harken when love calls. Let's laugh, like them, regardless of the end Altho' our days may know both grief and strife Let's do our best, and always try to lend A merry laugh to every hour of life. And like the children at their eager play Let's heed the call of love in every way. To October By EMMA WINTER October is the treasurer of the year, And all the months pay bounty to her store, With what the fields and orchards freely bear. She fills her brimming coffers more and more, But she, with garments gay and rich and bold, And ever decked with youthful lavishness In brilliant scarlet, purple, red, and gold, Spends all her garnered wealth in gaudy dress. She heedeth not how swift the hours fly, But smiles and sings her happy life along, Above she only sees the shining sky, She only hears the breeze's voice in song. Her garments trail the woodland spaces through And gather pearls of early morning dew. Sonnet By MARGARET CRANDALL The happy cheering sunshine tells of spring, We wait the flowers blooming in the dell, The warm days violets and roses bring, The joy of life and love of God they spell. What is so rare as sunrise rosey hue? It is the glow that tints the morning skies. From flaming red to Heaven's rarest blue, Each flower watches for the sun to rise. So every happy person breathes of joy A happy, smiling friend is like sunrise A friend is always new, not like a toy. They are as lasting as the strongest ties. Life's made of flowers, sunshine, and of friends These are the greatest blessings that God sends. To An Old Ship By CARL WINGQUIST Old ship, you lie so quite lone and still, No longer can you plough the angry waves. Your hull has stood the furious storms until The splashing spray has water-logged your staves. A schooner once you were so strong and bold, And braved the raging typhoons with great ease. You carried cargoes in the seven seas And brought your owners precious jewels and gold. I, too, have now become both old and maimed From serving men on life's great rolling sea. l've conquered storms that would my life have claimed, And now approach the harbor of eternity. The rest l'll earn will be like yours, well won, g I'll listen for my Master's voice, Well done,

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JUNE, 1925 TH E M 19 The Coveted Letter By DAVID HAYNES It was during my senior year at Dart- mouth College that I became associated in a mutual bond of friendship with a rather unusual character, by name of Reaper Phil- lips. This young fellowihe was a youth of nineteen-aspired to earn a letter in some branch of sport. It was his most treasured ambition. He had, for two years, striven with an indomitable courage to attain the coveted but had failed. It seemed to be always his fortune never to quite make anything in the college athletic world. He had tried out for bootball and basketball, but was never able to make the team, he had even been a promising second on the varsity crew, but that was as far as he ever got. Now it must not be inferred that Phil- lips was without ability or courage, for be- sides being editor of the college's leading newspaper, he was president of the senior class and of his fraternity, and as for cour- age, daring, and tenacity, not only had he shown what he possessed on the football field in the annual Varsity-Scrub's game, but he had shone in student affairs. Reaper would end his college career by graduation in June: it was now February and he simply had to have a letter. In the two preceding years, Phillips had been looked upon as a fair candidate for track: although he was never promoted from the third team, nevertheless, he thought that he would have a better chance in that line of athletics than in either baseball or on the crew, so with the first track candidates in the spring we find Reaper. There were some fifty-five or sixty candidates. Of these, Phillips' squad, the half-milers, consisted of fifteen. I think that I need not tell you that Reaper was by no means looked upon as a very likely man. After the first general reduction of the team, he was a bit astounded to fmd his name among the still-eligible: this was a stimulant to him--there was still hope. With the advent of April came the annual inter-class meet. Phillips was entered in the 880 and finished sixth apparently without exhaustion. It was in evidence that he was improving. In the Hve dual and triangular meets of the year, Reaper was never able to place. Though he strove with all his might, some- thing was lacking. On the termination of these meets, there was one remaining, the National Intercollegiate Track Meet, which represented the finest athletes on the cinder path and in the field of America's tracksmen. It happened the night of May first, a night I shall always retain in memory, that the mysterious actions of Phillips began. He had come home that night in the most down- cast mood and without greeting me stood for some time leaning against the closed door of the room. When he had absent-mindedly returned my greetings, I inquired concern- ing the cause of his actions and voluntarily offered to help him: he thanked me warmly and said I could be of no assistance. Know- ing from the character of my friend that further questioning would be futile, I re- turned to my f'trig which I was intently studying previous to his entrance, and now and then cast a worried glance in his direc- tion. A profound silence now followed dur- ing which Reaper heaved a deep sigh and dropped himself into one of the arm chairs of the room. A few moments later he arose, went to the hall door and opened it, appar- netly with the intention of leaving, but sud- denly he changed his mind and began a rest- less pacing of the room, finally stopping in front of a window facing the campus and gazing wearily into the black night. On turning from this position his eye was caught by a picture on the wall opposite him. Reaper stood before this photograph of a Dartmouth track team of many years ago some five or six minutes in silent contempla- tion, then as if caught by an idea, he snapped his fingers, rushed towards the desk where I was studying, wrote rapidly for a few min- utes, and without procuring his cap rushed from the room.