Phillips High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

Page 16 text:

The Mirror SIGNS OF WINTER Whirling, drifting snow, Falling softly to the ground; Strong, sturdy winds That whip around Tall bare trees Against a graying sky; Weather-beaten houses, With chimneys smoking high. —Doris Kincaid RAIN A dreary little sign comes from afar With the dripping, the dripping of the rain. A lonely little wave climbs a sand-bar With the coming, the coming of the rain. Somebody’s tired baby falls fast asleep With the lulling, the lulling of the rain. Somebody's huge ship tosses on the deep With the beating, the beating of the rain. One of God’s pretty flowers drinks her fill. With the showering, the showering of the rain. One of God’s wee birds opens wide his bill, With the falling, the falling of the rain. —Freida McCarter THE WIND It nips the rosy cheeks, Sweeps the golden grain, 'Turns the windmill’s vane. It drives the smoke away; It makes the trees to sway— The wind. It tosses winged seeds in flight, It disturbs the duskiness of night, The wind—the wind. —Lawton Dcaa [14]

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1‘ it e Mirror AT HARVEST TIME The air was clear and bracing, The distant stars shone blight. Among grey clouds went racing A Harvest Moon that night. Haystacks gleamed in the meadows, Moonbeams danced on the lane, Playing hide-and-seek with shadows Between the golden grain. Yellow rays in the sparkling lake, Rising, falling on the foam. Rippled in the water’s wake Gently trickling o’er the stone. Souls gazed on this splendid sight Sketched upon the midnight blue, Saw cherished dreams and fond delight Brighten, glimmer—then come true. —Rebecca Averyt FALL Blowing winds tell of winter cold, And that fall's retreat is near. But mellow pumpkins on yellow vines Speak words of lusty cheer. —Gwendolyn Harbuck MASTERPIECE Red leaves. Fiery red with mingling brown, Splashed like blood on bare background ; God’s masterpiece in nature’s frame— Autumn! —Michael White AUTUMN LEAVES The air grows chilly, the wind heaves a sigh. And the leaves turn yellow as the days go by. The wind blows fierce and the leaves let fly. Falling to earth from the gray blue sky. —Eva Lee Frederick [13]

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REFLECTIONS FANTASY Perhaps you’ve seen him, though I doubt it, for few people have; and those have caught only a passing glimpse. I saw him once as the moon unexpectedly burst from a cloud in the cast. Even then his hack was toward me; however, as he looked over his shoulder, 1 felt his presence. He wore a flowing black mantle and a dignified top hat; at least, so it seemed. As he passed with a steady gait hut light step, 1 noticed his overcast countenance and his dark eyes—lustrous and dreamy; 1 heard his voice so deep-throated that I did not catch the words; I heard only his dusk) tones that left me awe-struck. Slowly his ample figure became vague, and then disappeared under the cover of darkness. He was gone into stillness—a stillness that remained until dawn; hut when Morning looked around the world and peered directly at me, I knew Night had passed. —Horace Hughens PRAYER Peaceful Becomes the scene As voices are raised In devout, reverent Prayer! —Florence Scalco FI NNY TO HE SOBER It is funny to he sober, clear-headed, and direct, while all about runs the hustle and hustle of unmeaning steps. While riotous action is running here and there without thought, it is queer to sit thinking that the world is moving without direction, and that things here today ate gone tomorrow. Why is the urge for happiness always the urge for wealth and power? In ages past, it seems there was never a time when gain was not the source and self the end. Even today people sit and wonder if they shall follow the wise and sober, or if they shall drink the drink of the selfish and reckless; and, in their drunken exhilaration, think it funny to he sober. Before they act, let them speak, not with one, but with one and twenty, the soberest of their kind. [15] —Curtis Mil wee