Rockland High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Rockland, ME)

Page 15 text:

THE CAULDRON 13 SCHOOL YEAR The Freshmen enter high school Full of dread and fear, ' Knowing not what lies before them- And feeling loss of friends and cheer. Next year they are Sophomores With confidence well in hand, Looking down upon the Freshmen- Such a green and childish band. The Juniors just go drifting Neither back nor forward look. Only one more year of struggle Then they ne'er will touch a book. Now at last they are Seniors, So dignified and cool, They embark with courage on the Sea of life As they say, Farewell to school. LUCY RACKLIFF MAINE SUMMER There is a place where the spruce trees grow, Deep and thick in the sunlight's glow, And the ledges rise To meet the skies. Granite white Against the blue Of the rolling sea, And the bright sky too. Where a stiff breeze tosses waves up high And sailboats scud beneath the sky The breeze is filled with scents like these, Tangy sea and green spruce trees. The lobster boats go to their moorings, Their engines making muffled roar- ings, The last trap buoy tossed behind, the last crab caught, The last kelp line untangled from the warps pulled taut. The scene is set For a perfect day, Sailing along Down Spruce Head Way. LEATRICE C. NUTT TIME n V This form no human eye can gaze on, This Cain of man and beast alike- N o favor shows. It but rolls in silent, majestic swells To engulf all. Resist it ? Can the Sun refuse to shine? The night to fall? ' They alike have no cause to voice, But with silent majestic force, like All the rest, Each has labor to perform- To bring to this nothingless order, Beauty or purpose. The rest have passing sights to mark Their crests of beauty or moments Of silent glory. Time, forgetful, forgiving, His gaze on scatteredtoys of man, Knows alone the force that moves it all. SEWARD R. DINSMORE MY REVERIE Time, with all your endless fetters, Release us now, I pray. Let us dwell entranced forever In the mem'ries of today. To us the path of Youth is open: We linger 'midst its charm. Its beauty and tranquillity Preserve us from all harm. We yet have seen no toil or strife, The world's a mystery,- A challenge to our eager minds, Like the endless sea. Beyond us lie the threads of fate, Unknown and unforeseen. Our life is but a fieeting hour- A fragment of a dream. In yonder days, so far away, I fondly hope to be Pure in heart and rich in love,- A servant, Lord, for Thee. gs JANE PERRY

Page 14 text:

12 THE CAULDHON patriots flew from their saddles, their drawn unsmoking guns mocked them. Paul Crozier left them there. He took hold of the wounded man's horse and pulled it behind him. Its rider seemed to be hit somewhere in the shoulderbone. Without stopping for rest Paul Crozier headed home. He had his money now-and he had a man to hang. LEO RICHARD CONNELLAN THE LIFE I LEAD At 6:30 the alarm buzzes. As I open first one eye then the other, I think of the day before me. There is not much to think about, just the same old things I have been going through for the last twelve years. I have reasons to think this is my last one in this employment. This job I have is a very odd one when you come down to the facts. First, I have been forced to work here, and second, I have several bosses, each having an individual job for me every day. As I report three minutes late in the morning, I am immediately jumped upon by my first boss, who checks us in and gives us the day's rules and regulations. He starts giving me the third degree, Where have you been ? Before I can answer, he bellows, Why? Why? At this, I drop my head, and he continues, Report to me after business hours tonight. I go to my post and wait for the signal to go to the next assignment. There are also many other employees who work for this concern under like conditions. At last, I get the signal. Springing from my post, I push away the congested employees in order to get to my next job in time. I do not wish to arrive late. This boss gives me notes, et cetera, which I write down rapidly in order not to miss anything. I must get it all because some other day I will have to reel it back to him. When we get in the middle of what we are doing, we get another signal telling us it is time to move on. I grab my tools and push my way to the third job. This work is my most difficult. I have been trying to get rid of it for the last three years but to no avail. Everytime I return they push it in my face so that I can't get out of doing it. At last, the end! Now I can rest for ten minutes and eat a littleg I am famished. The bell! Here we go again to grind out the rest of the day. I manage to get through it somehow. Then, the last signal booms. Now I can go out into the fresh air and to rest for another day. I drag myself away thinking that in 16 hours, 27 minutes, 49 seconds I will have to come back to go through the same procedure. DAVID HOCH

Page 16 text:

14 THE CAULDRON WHEN A MAN TARRIES What is that weaving down the street? Oh, it's Bill in his rickety car. I can't see how it ever runs, Look at that door all ajar. Hi ya, Bill, need any gas? Oh, you're still using kerosene. Well, how about oil? Don't tell me now I'm sure you think fish oil keen. Say, where are you going today, Bill? Way up to Appleton Ridge? Now, why are you going so far away? Oh, to see your best girl Midge. Do you think she will hold together, Bill? No, not Midge, this rickety car. That motor is knocking and pounding And that Ridge is pretty far. I don't think she's put together right. What's that wire nailed to the seat? I can't understand your workmanship. Just where do you put your feet? So you think you got quite a bargain When you paid thirteen ninety-four. How do you get her home, Bill? Oh, they towed it to your door. The tires are thinner than paper. Do you carry a jack or a pump? When you get to that Ridge, Bill, You'll think that you're flying the Hump. Did you stop for anything special, Bill, A tire, or maybe a patch? Oh, there's nothing in particular, You just wanted to borrow a match. Well, I guess you'll have to crank, Bill 3 She turns a wee bit hard. Oh, you say that you don't mind that? But you should be on your guard. Your face is awful red, Bill, Your eyes are bulging too. If you keep on with that grinding, I don't know what you'll do. You say that I'm not to worry, There's no cause for alarm, You're all through trying to crank her. Oh, I see, you broke your arm! DIANE CURTIS THE GANG AT ROCKLAND HIGH Oh we've rowed our boat together, Each man at his oar, Through four long years of high school We'll remember ever more. We have fathomed every ripple of a Mathematic stream, We have rowed the reinforcement For Caesar's glory dream. We have finally reached the harbor, Life's great opened swinging door. Now who will be companion to us On this foreign shore? Oh, Gang at dear old Rockland High, What lies around the bend? Who will stop and clasp our hands, And hail us-friend? Who will give us all the comforts All the push and helping hand? And when we need a bit of help, Who will understand? Oh, once we stuck together As members of a crew Who rowed a boat evenly, loyally And true. But in every battle, in order to sur- V1Ve, Many will forget his mate Just to stay alive. It is then that I will worry And gaze up at the sky. And wish, and wish that I was back At dear old Rockland High. We've been friends here! Mates here! Immortal time will tell That when we rowed together We rowed our good ship well. LEO R. CONNELLAN