Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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OLD TREES Old trees, old trees, In your mystic gloom There ' s many a warrior laid, And many a nameless and lonely tomb Is sheltered beneath your shade. Old trees, old trees, without pomp or prayer We buried the brave and the true, We fired a volley and left them there To rest, old trees, with you. Old trees, old trees, we shall pass away Like the leaves you yearly shed, But you, lone sentinels, still must stay. Old trees, to guard our dead. Sigmund J. Szydlowski, ' 30. A STORM A strange uneasiness is in the air; The gentle wind of spring grows sharp and keen — All changed to gray, the sky just now so fair. The deep, deep blue of ocean wave, now green, A storm! On land, all rush to gain some shelter near; Away from storm and wind and rain they flee. On land, they think of those out there with fear; Out there, they watch the sky, the raging sea, A storm! The gale in all its fury strikes the earth; It shrieks, it howls, it seems to shake the sphere; The demons laugh and gloat in awful mirth. But yet, ' tis wonderful to see and hear A storm! Elizabeth Dellinger, ' 30. THE SONG OF THE RIVER ' Tis the summer and the weather ' s hot and dry, That ole river sings a song as he floats by; It ' s a plaintive, sobbing note so deep and low That only those black ni ggers ever know What the river sings. Now it ' s winter and the weather ' s cold and wet. And those muddy waters are complaining yet; And that river swells his breast and starts to moan- Oh, but now he sings an eerie, warning tone — How that river sings! It ' s the springtime now and we must stand and gasp For the river leaps forth, free from Winter ' s grasp And the water writhes and snaps as if to bite And its song is now a wail, a cry of might When the river sings. Oh, if I could copy down that music weird. Or if I could comprehend those tunes I ' ve heard, Why I ' d weave them into symphonies, that glow! But remember, only lazy darkies know What the river sings. Stephen Rogers, ' 30. ??r GRANDMA ' S TALES Of princes, kings and knights bo bold. Of ladies fair With powdered hair. Of these my grandma told. ■ ' Of fdiry folk whose laughter ran- ' ' ' Beneath each tree ' ' ' ' ' On every lea, - Of these my grandma sang. Of many tales both sad .and gay Adventures fast About the past. My grandma told each day. ' ' ' ' - ' ' ' ■ • ■■ Aj ' sil But now I have to sit and look At pictures gay, - ' ' ' ' •• Most every day, ' ' Within my story jbook. For grandma ekr has gone to be An angel white. Out of my sight. But still she watches me. I ' ll be with her again sometime And hear her tales Of fairy dales. Till I ' ll end my rhyme. Corrinne Doane, ' 31. NIGHT I saw a lake as I passed by. The lazy clouds high in the sky. The rosy sun far in the West, The purple shadows, heaven blest. The silvery lake, a deep ' ning blue. The shadows lengthening, darker hue. The distant mountains looming large, And on the lake a dusky barge. Gi.-. ■ Shadows, shadows, all around, 4,5 : o.r Stilly silence, all profound. . -li-v Kingly trees so large and towering. Tiny stumps, afraid and cowering, Length ' ning shadows, still they come. Warning all that day is done. The gentle breeze — a sweet regret. , Deeper shadows — deeper yet. Darkness now and day is done Now at last the night is come. , ' r i ' -: ' : .: : EleadiOEv Collins, ' 31. DREAMS AND REALITY - In dreams, we ride a reckless horse, O ' er rolling plains and hills. We race! We speed! We seldom pause Our goal in life is Thrills! But we cannot go on and on. Amid the world ' s great strife. Just doing everything for fun. Because we ' ll miss Real Life! ' ' • ' ' ■ ' Phyllis Reed, ' 31.

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MIRROR OF VENUS There ' s a mirror that shines with a light divine Beneath the clear blue sky, Where many a plighted maid doth pine For the beauty of Venus ' eye. The floating bubbles o ' erlap the stones, As the maidens watch and sigh. And the watery clearness, and the silvery tones Are as deep as heaven is high. Rose Assenza, ' 30. MEDICI VASE Lustrous grapes in clusters hanging. Tender, green their tendrils twining, Sturdy men their labor plying. Earthly cups with fruit are filling. The molded chalice, scalloped rim, Entwined with leaves of tender green. Is set upon a pedestal slim And all may gaze on its golden sheen. Juanita Hazelton, ' 30. THE BLESSED DAMOZEL The stars of heaven in her dusky hair. The lonely maiden looks with thoughtful eyes Upon the deeds of men who live below; For she is an immortal of the skies. Mary Bonney, ' 30. MINERVA Her potential scepter she holds in her hand. The symbol of vigor and might on the land. Then, too, her stern visage seems ordained to lead Expression of strength and the will to succeed. For down through the ages, has she played her part, Minerva, the Goddess of War and of Art. Elizabeth Ridlon, ' 30. PSYCHE True grace and beauty in Psyche did abound. From whose eyes the sparkle of love flashed ' round. A maiden with butterfly ' s wings she once was, And her love for Eros knew not one pause. Though Cupid caused her both torture and bliss. No virtues of life in her were amiss. Elizabeth V. Upham, ' 30. SAPPHO Sappho, you In days of Grecian grace Lilted lyrics to the ling ' ring roll Of a lyre. Sappho, yours is virgin mold of face Carved by Nature ' s ardent flaming soul And a lyre. Louise Sherman, ' 30. APOLLO AND THE MUSES Apollo, god of music and of song. Stood in the midst of beauteous maids, While all around in floating gowns so long. The Muses danced on rapturous days. Gladys Douglass, ' 30. THE FORGE OF VULCAN A huge hulk shadowed ' gainst the murky sky; The dull, red glow of greedy, licking flames; The sweating, straining ripple of bulging muscles; The panting, labored breath of toiling gods; The dumb, despairing search for precious respite; The measured monody of clanging anvils. John Roach, ' 30. LAOCOON O Son of Earth, why struggle on. When death ' s lean clutch is at your throat, For soon your manly strength is gone; Then pain of terror, madness racks your frame; And as life ' s breath succumbs to dark and whirling roar, You find that mortal will is dust to Godly claim. Merritt Stockbridge, ' 30. PENELOPE She ' s sitting on a block of stone Her body ' s in repose. But there, I wonder if it ' s known What in her mind arose. Her hair has many a silken curl. She has an aquiline nose. She is a stately Roman girl With thoughts of love — who knows? Miriam Schreider, ' 30. NIOBE ' S DAUGHTER What does this daughter of Niobe see As she goes forth to meet eternity? Her needless dying, loss, disgrace, and pain? But no, her mother ' s guilt is, as by rain. All washed away in understanding love — Her heart is filled with peace from Heaven above. With gentle, pure, and calm, resigned face, She knows death near — she ' s lost — yet won life ' s race! Elizabeth Dellinger, ' 30. DYING ALEXANDER His tangled ringlets, symbols of the might That he had known, fall free. A light! He raised his head, those eyes that knew no fear, Those fading eyes, above in wonder bent. His face aglow, while every firmament. Blazed forth in splendor for his funeral bier. Baldwin Tuttle, ' 30. CHINA Golden vase with jeweled face, Your slanting eyelids close. As moonbeams tied with silver lace, And perfumed shadows doze. Scented silks of peacock hue. Musk and dusk have breathed Mystery and a fragrance true With smoky shadows wreathed. Ruth O ' Connell, ' 31.

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THE PINES Upon the hill across that field, Two lonely pind trees there, Are symbols of the hill ' s own quest — Two hands in sUent prayer. The trees are etched against the blue. They hold back Winter ' s rod; The roaring of the icy blast Brings answer straight from God. Alfred Dickhart, ' 31. GARDEN GOSSIP Across a lovely garden wall, There peeped two hollyhocks, so tall. They told of mystic flower lore. And what the future held in store. They talked of love, and eyes of blue And to Sweet William both were true. They had a rival. Columbine, Who kept a tryst in raiment fine. Their secrets then they ceased to tell, For when I came, I broke the spell! Lois Huff, ' 31. CHRISTMAS Now lights are glistening beauty. And shops are filled with toys; But Christ was born in a manger With a star for His candle tall; vi! ! While His bed that wondrous night Was the hay in the cattle ' s stall. Now carollers sing in the night-time. There ' s a tinkle of merry bells; But Christ heard only the angels. Far up in the heavenly sky. To baby ears it seemed Like some sweet lullaby. Sallie Parker, ' 32. THE LAST WHALING SHIP Anchored in firm cement she stands. The last old whaling ship. No more she ' ll visit foreign lands. She ' s taken her last trip. Her prow is headed seaward yet. Her sails blow in the breeze. For her sole mission she is set: — Chance visitors to please. Alice Clark, ' 32. KNOWLEDGE I ' d like to see the open world. To know what life would be; And have the robes of mystery twirled, And thrown aside for me. John Serrentino, ' 31. TO A GYPSY MAID Life to thee is very gay — Just a time to dance and play — Summer sunshine stains your face. Every movement one of grace, From your lips a tune is tilting. And I know your heart is lilting To be off! Whirling ' round a campfire bright, I have watched you dance at night To a music wild and sweet, Such a pair of twinkling feet, And I wished that I might, too. Be a gypsy maid like you — Ever free! Fair gypsy maid, dance away, For all too soon will come a day When lilting tunes are but a sigh Of summer days that hasten by, While neither music wild nor sweet Can stir your little twinkling feet Forever still ! Miriam G. MacTeague, ' 30. WINTER When the sun is slowly setting. And the sky is all aglow, When you hear the north winds sighing, And the trees blow to and fro, You will know that winter ' s coming. With its ice and frost and snow. When the days are growing longer, And the nights are very cold. When the winds are blowing stronger. Very harsh and very bold, You will know that winter ' s coming. With its ice and frost and snow. Phyllis Pottle, ' 33. SPRING How do I know that Spring has come? By the birds and the butterflies in the air. The things that grow in the cool, greenwood, The ferns and mosses and flowers rare; By the things that grow by the bubbling brook That flows through a leafy screen Of rushes and alders and cat-tails tall. And under drooping willows green. Eleanor Foster, ' 33. MY HOUSE O, to have a little house With Welcome by its door. And love and laughter, both within, Why, who could ask for more? A house that gives to all who pass, A kind and joyful smile. When it has gladdened one man ' s heart. My house is then worth while. Lois Huff, ' 31.