Steele High School - Annual Yearbook (Dayton, OH)

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THE ANNUAL Page twenty-nine slip off, and I could rise up again and begin a new life. Oh dear, that would be good. She filled her hands with water, and poured it over her burning face. That is fine, she said, nice and cool. I'll go in and stand there where Thomas stood this morning and perhaps all my pain will go away. She waded in. Upon reaching the place where the ceremony had taken place in the morning, she hurried on. The water was at her waist-now above her breast. She slipped-her foothold gave away-the water was over her head. Instinctively she struggled for a second, grasped the air-then a sud- den idea filled her mind, and with a smile she gave herself to the stream and sank. The moon disappeared behind the dark clouds, the wind, now risen to its force, moaned drearily-then before the waves of Darley's departure had ceased, the moon again lighted the circles in the water, and silence pos- sessed the place. She was found in the morning. Peace rested upon her face. Death had washed away all stain, and she seemed to have fallen asleep. But Thomas and Anne were restless. We were going to help her-we were going to be so good to her, they said to each other, if she had only lived a little longer. Q8 val 'AC LOVE AND LIFE A little blue violet, graceful and shy, Fell in love with a yellow butterfly Who chanced one day to go glancing by. A moment he poised on her petals blue, A moment her little gold heart thrilled through g Another moment-away he flew. He winged his carefree, fluttering way All through the sunny smiling day, Past riotous blossoms he loitered gay. Till a frost came down from the pitiless sky, And shriveled the wings of the butterfly, And his last faint breath was a wandering sigh, As he thought of the violet, graceful and shy, How he meant to go back to her by and by- Some time, long ere he came to die. And she waited on, in longing and fear, Till her little gold heart grew brown and sere, And a dew-drop lay, like a tender tear, On her frail blue petals, that curled and dried And withered away with wounded pride, Till the lonely little blue violet died. -Katherine Kunz.

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Page twenty-eight THE ANNUAL tures almost beautiful. It was Thomas, the lover of her youth, no longer a boy, but a man. just then Thomas's eyes, as he slowly ascended the bank, met hers, and he recognized his lost love. just look how white Thomas is, aint he? whispered somebody nearby in the crowd. But Anne isn't, was the reply. She's just as pretty as ever. I don't wonder that he thinks such a lot of her. Darley heard no more. With desperate footsteps she hurried back across the meadow, feeling as if she must sink every moment. The words of the preacher as he baptized them, pursued her- He will be merciful to you. Would he? Oh, if he would. That night Thomas and Anne were sitting in the big chair in the parlor of Thomas's father's farmhouse. There were tears on her face, and Thomas's face seemed grave as he stroked her small fingers in his broad hand. It's like a shadow over the day we thought would be so happy, Anne. At all times I am seeing that face-that strange face. My love for Darley died long ago, and I wouldn't dig it up for anything. But when I saw her face to-day, so unhappy, dear, I forgot everything that had happened between us two, and I only thought how I could help her. Don't be angry with me, darling, but tell me what you think. Angry, Thomas, how could I? I love you all the more for being so tender-hearted. But what can we do? I am trying to think, darling. If we were married it would be easy. But it won't do for me to go now: people would talk. But, Thomas, cried Anne, why should we mind people's talking if it's right? You know that we decided to do something in memory of our bap- tism. Perhaps this has been sent to us to fulfill our promise, who knows, Thomas? While kind persons were deciding upon her future, Darley stood beside the river-she had left the house and had come here. The night was wild. It had rained heavily during the afternoon. The unnatural music of the wind, signifying storm, fell like a terrible human voice upon the ears of the unhappy girl, as she passed along the meadow path, close to the river. Pausing at the bank, the idea of her present situa- tion seemed to crush her with terrible force. She bent over-weeping. Oh, what a dreadful place this world is, she sobbed. Oh, if I could only begin all over again. Isn't there any way to get rid of 1ife's burden? What did the preacher say- 'He will be merciful to you.' I-Ie didn't mean me. I wish the preacher would take hold of my arm and dlp me under as he did this moming with Thomas, and all my past life would

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Page thirty THE ANNUAL TO A ROSE A shuttle of fancy flew by wild and fI'CC, The iibers were light as the foam of the seag And dyed where the fairies were blending the tints For hollyhock petals and bloom of the quince. When to thee in the sun, Thy fair petals were spun, And spread a prize by their daintiness won. When nightly the dew-drops lie down to their rest, And Zephyrs are choosing where they would bequest, Thy buds fast asleep are low-bowing their heads But waiting the dawn's touch to spring from their beds. Then the dew and the kiss Of the zephyrs are bliss, And thy bloom of world more ethereal than this. Florence Collins. .n .n .1 TO YOUTH With cheeks and eyes aglow from tingling airg With happy ringing laugh and glances bright, To Youth the world is fresh with joy and light- It knows no heavy heart nor aching care, But has a dream of dreams where all is fair. The light-poised figure drawn to fullest height, Tripping along, unconscious, forms a sight That world-worn men in memory long may bear- O blithsome Spirit, free from any stain, Alive in every quickening vein with wealth They view, not that of doubting age, is truth. That thou must toil and labor hard to gain- In fair and lofty visions lies thy wealth, And rich thou art beyond a king, O Youth! Wm. G. Marvin