Rockland High School - Cauldron Yearbook (Rockland, ME)

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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

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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

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THE CAULDRON 15 LAMENT OF THE HUNGRY OR O, MY ACHING STOMACH!! What manner of men are these crude beasts That torture and coax this hungry soul To deprive its mind of great knowl- edge Which supposedly is his true goal. Then, as this slaving creature's hope dies With a sigh of longing and despair There peals a most melodious tone When the passing bell pierces the air. This person joins the orderly march Shoved and pushed 'til he's clear of the room Each man for himself, drawn by food or Driven by what in the lab went boom! In his home-room he sits quietly Hooting and whistling to his friend, Joe To save him a chair at the table For his desk's in the very last row. The last in each row at attention, Tell of those who forgot to report When the signal is given, excused! They take-off like a P-40 escort. In the midst of this rolling stampede Is our hero stepped on and dragged 'Til reaching his place fthe end of linel He stands drooping, weary and, fagged. Then, spying Joe a wee bit ahead He creeps one half a mile to join him But still, ahead is another pal Who is almost in sight of the gym! But a firm strong hand on his collar, CA1as, with nary a warning sign,J Makes him do a complete about face Andlhe's marched to the end of the ine. Nearing the end of this tedious hike He hears the patter of many big feet And the line of teachers cut their way In, receiving their plates all well heaped. Finally arriving worn and weak He holds out his tray as they pile on Tomato juice, cracker, pickle, what more? You are just slightly late, so file on. So you see what he has to go through What this poor skinny mortal must bear! No wonder his goal is never attained And the teacher thinks he's half there. LORRAINE CURRY AND MARY SAWYER PASSING SORROW O'er the winding road I wandered Heedless of the storm and windg Knowing not of time and hunger But of aching heart within. O On and on I stumbled forward Seeking rest within my soul, For death fills Youth with blinding passion, Eased by time and God alone. Ere the storm reached its full fury And the evening time was spentg Back I turned and calm prevailed, Sorrow had at last relent. MARY SAWYER THE NEST Up in a tree I see a robin, Working steadily, bending low. Building with care of ages Shelter, for his young who grow. Toiling slowly every season, With a patience known to God, As the will to work and prosper, And be thankful to the Lord. LEO R. CONNELLAN