Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

 - Class of 1916

Page 10 of 48


Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1916 Edition, Page 10 of 48
Page 10 of 48

Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1916 Edition, Page 9
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Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1916 Edition, Page 11
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Page 10 text:

8 THE TARGET busy making garlands, decorating for the afternoon, wreathing the lights with greenery and flowers. Then, in a moment, the picture of the last ex- ercises opened before me. A group of familiar faces on the platform to- gether for the last time, the sweet strains of familiar music, and words rehearsed for many weeks; the sad thought of parting, all lived before me again. As I bent over the last picture, the elf ceased crooning his song. He looked at me for a mo- ment, and his eyes asked whimsically, " How much did it all mean to you? " I found myself thinking in answer to his query, " Why all the best gifts my life has known had their beginning in those days! There were those whose faith set me to work, to strive for life ' s deepest treasures. There the seeds of ambition were set well and wisely in my heart. The love of beauty, of art, and of music was first awakened in these class rooms, and there the love of teachers and school mates came first to teach me the wonder of friendship. All that I have grown to hold highest, I owe to those dear days of planting — the days at McKinley school. " I turned to look again at the curi- ous book, to tell the elf of its meaning. He was nowhere to be seen! At my elbow a wild columbine swung, bending from the fern bed. Somewhere out in the night a wild bird whistled as tho to mock my thought of the elf — but do you know, close in my fingers there lay three leaves and a stem that I had not seen before — I held the fairy ' s charm — a fragrant sprig of Rosemary. DORIS McENTYRE. HAPPY THOUGHTS By Edith Hilles WONDERINGS I wonder where the waves go to When they run back from land — I ' ve often watched them do that way When playing in the sand — I wonder where the dark comes from And how it lives all day. I wonder how the fire feels When the sparks have gone away. I have so many wonderings, At night, when lights are out, That early in the morning I forget to ask about! OUR DOG Sometimes I ' d like to be our dog — He has such lots of fun! Just playing all the morning through, Or sleeping in the sun. And while I have to sit and learn Whole rows of A B C ' s, I see him through the window there, As happy as you please — And when at night my mother turns The nursery lamp down dim, And kisses me — why then I ' m glad I ' m me, instead of him. SONG OF THE ROAD Give me the road that winds up hill, With the valley ' s green below me, And the friendly gossip of little cart;, As they clatter to and from me. Give me the clouds of changing blue, And the wind to blow beside me — And when at night the world is still, A star or two to guide me. DISTANCE The cool of wind, the blue of sky, The mist of white clouds drifting by, The stir of leaves, the breath of rain — I stand on hills above the plain — And faint, like echoes from the sea, The sound of worlds floats up to me.

Page 9 text:

THE TARGET 7 " Here ' s Rosemary — That ' s For Remembrance It is good for a graduate to look back upon the years that are gone, to cast up the accounts of his mem- ories, to think of those days of be- ginnings when the seeds of am- bitions and ideals were being set in the garden of his life. It is good to remember because the memory fills one ' s heart with gratitiide. Shall I tell you the manner of my remem- brance? Just two weeks ago I wandered thru an old garden that is spread be- neath great gnarled oaks beside a happy singing stream. It was very late, and dark, for only the blue star- shine lit the garden paths. I paused in passing to watch the water break in hurried spray over the brown stones, but hardly had I bent to look, when out from a clump of ferns, pushing aside the damp fronds in his hurry, plunged an elf — hand high, dressed all in green with a flower cap tilted back from his smiling face, and a spray of Rosemary between his lips. I remem- ber noticing a book, almost as big as himself, strapped under his arm. Without a word of warning he clam- bered up beside me, and I, astonished, felt myself shrinking to his size. I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, he had spread the book out on his knees and was smiling at the pictures there and talking half aloud with now and then a smile. As [ looked over his shoulder, the night and the starlit garden seemed to van- ish quite away. Only I heard his gay little whispering voice crooning a song that I half remembered. Let us off and away, while the mem- ories stay, To that far land the elf children made, To the land of recalling, where dream petals, falling, Bring thoughts that are never to fade. Let us pause as we skim o ' er the dream pages dim, Where the old days by magic are shown, Let us look and be glad, for the dear days we had Still live — yea they never have flown! Beneath his hurrying fingers the pictures seemed alive. They showed me those happy hours seven years ago when McKinley school was home to the ' 09 class. Again I hurried into the building with its wide, cool halls and its shuttered windows, in and out of the familiar class rooms. Now the " Target " staff was gathered in Miss Fisher ' s room discussing plans for the last issue — for stories and poems and the prophecy. Then, as the elf turned the heavy pages, I saw the old assembly hall. It was Lin- coln ' s birthday and we were gathered together to sing and speak of the man whom we had grown to love. I heard the songs again and felt the uplift of the assembly as we sang to- gether. I saw Miss Ellerhorst at the piano leading and singing with us, for our enthusiasm was hers. Before I had time to linger over the picture, he turned the pages with a chuckle. It was graduation day. We were hurry- ing to and fro from Wilkins ' Hall

Page 11 text:

THE TARGET 9 IN WINTER In winter time I always hate To get up out of bed. Sometimes I think I ' ll shut my eyes And play that I am dead — So nurse will be quite fooled, you see, And after while stop calling me. GREETINGS TO " THE TARGET " Full well we of the class of 1910 remember the great interest we took in our edition of " The Target " in which our greatest event, our Cali- fornia Day, was recorded. We were the first class to graduate from the eighth grade after the installation of the Introductory High School sys- tem and our celebration, while not really a graduation, took on all the interest, solemnity, and excitement which before we had expected to ex- perience. The whole theme of the exercises was praise for our " Golden State " which was expressed in the addresses, songs, and decorations of California poppies. It was a true California Day and one which stirred our patriotic feeling for our state, — ■ a day which will not be forgotten by those who witnessed it. MARY E. LIPMAN, VASSAR AND DEMOCRACY As I have talked with people out- side of. Vassar about the college I have been both amused and discour- aged to find that more people have heard of its " Daisy Chain, " than of any other feature of the college life. And it seems to me a great pity that our one undemocratic custom should be thus emphasized abroad. For we are essentially a democratic col- lege and we live a community life. There are no sororities to separate us and cause rivalry and bitter feel- ing. We do not need the sorority unit for our social life because the college is so limited that practically all the girls can live in the campus dormitories. So I think it is this feeling of unity which is one of the best things in the life of the college. Although there is a strong class spirit, there is a still stronger college spirit. Whenever we meet, whether it be in the more serious moments ot chapel and self-government meet- ings, or in the glad ones of " College Singing, " we are conscious of our- selves as a college, not as individuals or groups of individuals. MARGARET MILES. Vassar College, May 11, 1916. Dusk The breathing dark creeps ' round me; on my hair Dim forms grow dimmer, but still, sweet upon my hair Its odorous tendrils cling, damp, The mist is clinging, and the dark faintlv sweet; sky nears; Its incense, borne upon the soft, A crushed rose gives its perfume to warm air the air; Stirs the still throbbing flowers at my The night is Peace — and yet, O won- feet. ter! tears! GRACE MADDOCK.

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