Salem High School - Clarion Annual Yearbook (Salem, OR)

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jola 6y Z5e IMsi 744113 .- 03c yo Oregon I heard a gentle Whisper, ttList! let me speak With thee.H I paused amazed, and wondered What can that strange voice be? I started, looked around me, But naught my gaze reveale-l, Despite my greatest efforts, The mystery to unseal. But ere I stood a moment, Bewildered and amazed, I heard the same voice wafted From golden sunset blaze. I cried, itOh tireless west wind, What wouldst thou to me Isay?H The roving Wind With laughing voice In glee made this reply: HI come from a land far the westward, A land bathed in sunshine and rain, On WhO,S shore the great, great water nestles Whose breakers make constant refrain T0 music of nature, Whose harp strings Are stretched over mountain and vale, And shed in abundance o,er all things A harmony aught can assail. Tall mountains deep coated With ermine In one grand succession there rise, Their summits like spires eternal Exaltingly point to the skies, And down from the cliff and the crevice Of every grand monarch of stone, Despite the ehect of timeis ravage, The gay singing brooks ever come, And on through their boulder-fllled channelse Past forests of tall waving pines Whose decades fill historyls annals Through numberless ages of time; Past strands where the elk and the fallow, When leaped like a breeze o,er the brink, Stop, standing knee deep in a shallow And cool water, cautiously drink; Past ledges Whose summits so airy Are fanned by the chilliest breeze, On Whose broad face that mischeivous fairy, Gay Echo, their murmurs repeat; Past pools deep whose crystal recesses Protection and hiding place give Where happy the water nymphs nestle, Filmed sunbeams in myriads live; Past banks on Whose sides in profusion Oxalis and bleeding hearts grow, And violets bloom in seclusion- They jostle and laugh as they go. Where lying in silent contentment Surrounded by borders of green- Their crystaline surface presenting A delicate glimmering sheen, Low hid in the sheltering mountains From the coves and the caves on Wh0,8 sides x lOWS streams from perpetual fountains That life and existence provide,- Are lakes 0n WhO,S mirror like canvas The scenes that the muses array Far rival the grandest of landscapes That brushes With oils can portray. Where high oier a green mossy carpet Great hemlocks and cedars extend Their long shaggy boughs that entwin- 1n Form goofs, Which, their rough trunks suspend Like temples With grandest adornments, With pillars of granite deep carved, With statues of choicest assortment, And avenues running afar In the midst of the columns colossal, To a fountain, a brook, or a dell, Forms castles and gardens ambrosial, Wherein the great spirit doth dwell. From a land on Whose shores facing westward The breakers' low moan never cease, And the cliffs, that forever look sea- ward, The moan 0f the breakers repeat, Or, where stretches of sand to the water Give chance from the walls to be free, They glide restlessly backward and for- ward And never at ease seem to be. But as though some unspeakable power, Concealed tneath the waves of the deep, Keeps seeking as backward and for- ward, And hither and thither it creeps, Some treasure that from it was taken, A beautiful nymph that has flown, 01d Ocean, now wretched, forsaken, Does naught but to weep and to moan. But L0! When the shadows of evening Come tround and the sun in the west The country to darkness is leaving And wearily sinking to rest, Old Ocean, his darling embraces, And While the orb sinks on his breast The glory of two golden faces, Their blush, gives the waves a short rest. Till at length Oceants beautiful lover Has passed onward out of. his sight, l ......

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And his grief, when from her again severed, Grows greater as on through the night He wails, and his sorrow but lessens When morning comes back with itis light, And he eagerly calls her to hasten, Return from her perilous flight. Thus, onward forever and ever, These lovers s0 faithful and true, Are forced each from each to be sev- ered, As Sun her hard journey pursues; Except but a moment at evening As she, lit with blushes, soft prest One kiss on his brow deeply furrowed, And rests on his powerful breast. I come from a land where the iiowers O,er valley and hillside bloom fair, And through summeris long balmy hours With fragrance they laden the air, And polish the hillsides to brightness, And tint them with colors so gay, That the landscapes appear in their lightness Dame Nature in choicest array. And the butterfiies dressed bright and dainty,- The gay little fairies that guard The blossoms,-iiit here and quaintly And carry soft whispers of love. A stream of unparalleled beauty In statliness flows through this land. It is banks-one complete panorama That borders close on its strand- Makes pictures of any description A masterful artist could paint, From hills whose adornments are sylvan To level, unbroken green plains. Its water, so clear and so mirthful, To comrades that rest by its shores, Tells stories the same as it has told Through numberless Iages before. Aye, yet there,s a region of mystery Within the bright land of the west, The pages of natureis great history, It tells us a tale of the past. A mountain, a mountain colossal, Its summit once reared tiwards the sky, And up from the furnace internal there sk- 4i Its iiame did for centuries rise. But there came a terrific convulsion, The elements, bound to be free, Grown weary of painful oppression, Burst forth brighter visions to see. And now, o,er the regions of ruin, Where once stood this mountain sub- lime A silence, deep, reverent and misty molds sway over boulder and pine, And beneath Where the hot flame as- cended, beneath where the mammoth brow stood With walls built by nature surrounded, There peacefully slumbers a flood Of water, the clearest and bluest That ever turned back to the sky It7s image, and in this dim region Is where the tlake Mystery, lies. I come from a land where the ocean, The rivers, the mountains s0 grand, Tue valleys, the prairies, the open Untimbered, unbroken, rich land, Where the fallow, the elk and the beaver, brooks throng The hillsides, gay painted with flowers, The birds with their unceasing song, Await but the seeing and coming Of man with his artful device Of power, and skillfully forming Of them a complete paradise. The with their numberless Pray stop but for a moment, Kind wind, and tell me true, Where lies this land of wonder, And then your tale renew. You say that in the westward Full many moons away It lies where restless ocean Holds undisputed sway? Enough, kind wind, you,ve told me. 1,11 seek this western land, From where thou laughing comest, And settle on its strand. Iill fashion stream and forest, And everything of worth, Until is Spread before me HThe garden of the earth.H Horace Sykes, i06. . 34' h i V : g'fcf' ' hVH