A B Davis High School - Maroon and White Yearbook (Mount Vernon, NY)

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MARGON AND WHITE his thoughts into a piece of artistry is very evident. In the poem, Time, Galsworthy offers a bit of interesting philosophy and leaves us with the two closing lines: Then what is man's so brittle life?- The buzzing of the flies that pass! An interesting and pleasant thought is offered in the poem, The Seeds of Light, in which sun beams are described and comL pared to- The little sunny smiles of God that glisten forth and die. Whoever thought of describing the moon at dawn? Rather a unique time to de- scribe the satellite, but the effect produced is quite lovely. The rhyming scheme is a new one to me: the last word of every line in one stanza rhymes. Every stanza is arranged according to this plan no mat- ter how many lines to a stanza. Serenity presents a number of word pictures that are very beautiful: the smiling sea , the bee , the dreamy fields . the flowers , the barques , that far row of trees , and the dreaming lovers . Outstanding is the following stanza: The barques drift slow, And, dreaming, melt away Where golden glow Consoles the death of day. The peacefulness of these lines imprints. through their very simplicity, a lingering image. But the author's real point in the poem is summed up in the final, brief line: Serenity is God! The device word used is extremely clever. for in contrast to the author's beautiful. descriptive passages, a simple little sentence ends the poem. I have always felt that poets seemed to be subject to strong moods, and Gals- worthy proves to be far from an excep- tion. After reading a number of his poems that portrayed a light, cheerful mood. I came upon a four-lined poem which bore all the earmarks of having been written in Page One Hundred and Thing-six an exceedingly fearful mood. The poem that I have in mind is Nightmare . The writer's fear of dropping out of the race is very apparent. The nervous question Qwas he the man who fell in the heat as out of the race he ran ?j seems to make the poem's title most fitting, for isn't it a nightmare to think of not being able to do what is nearest one's heart? In Galsworthy's case, of course, it is the fear of not being able to write. We glimpse Galsworthy from another angle through a bit of his art in Slum Cry , that is, his zeal for reform. Though there is no distinct rhyming scheme in the poem, the effect produced is at once over- powering. Strength or force is gained by the direct plea ful of the desolate J from a child of the slums, who though- Breath choked, dry-eyed- Death of me staring, must live her life for, --so was I born! -so shall -I die! Again this noble author utters a plea to bestow honor where it is due in On a Soldier's Funeral. A funeral that the private soldier tat whose death no drums are beat and no bells are rungl is not given. is described. The author contrasts this brilliant description by the simple but clear stanza: I-Ie lived his time And little day of silent tasks And silent duty-no one asks To know his name. It is very evident that the poem, Let , was prompted by the thoughts at seeing a sign, To Let , outside a little brick house. The description is effective and pleasing, and the rhyming plan, which is merely the rhyming of alternate lines, is unadorned to fit the peaceful simplicity of the atmosphere. In A Mood, which is in reality a description of love, devotion is character- ized as a light, airy, untouchable some- thing. The last stanza shows my point: NINETEEN THIRTYTHREE

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in which the fish liveu. Immense fish, twice as large as Sunshine, swam majest- ically about, nodding to one another with slow fins. The place was a riot of color. The shrub, surrounding the village, was multi- ple-colored. Some plants were a deep violet at the bottom, and gradually grew lighter as they went up. fading into a light blue. which in turn, grew dark and changed to green. and then a light yellow at the top. Others were just as varied in their shading. but of different colors. Suddenly I looked at Sunshine in alarm, for he had taken on a most ferocious ap- pearance, and was slowly swimming toward me. I could not take my eyes MAROON AND WHITE from him. Unable to move, I could only stand and stare at him. He was now on top of me, and had opened his mouth wide. I looked down the interior of his mammoth, cave-like throat, and felt his breath like a warm breeze against myself. I was now inside his mouth and still un- able to move a muscle. I was covered with perspiration and trembled all over. His mouth closed behind me and I started to fall into those inter depths. I fell down, down, down, losing consciousness. I felt light and was being suffocated. My breath was getting shorter. I could not breathe. I was falling, falling, going, going, . . . STANLEY HENRY, Class of 1933. JOHN GALSWORTHY On January 31, 1933, the world's newspapers proclaimed in headlines the death of John Galsworthy. Why is this English author deserving of such honors on both sides of the Atlantic, when there are so many hundreds of outstanding Writers? Why are the lovers of goold literature mourning his death? John Gals- worthy has found a spot in the hearts of the people not only because of his ex- cellent work as a novelist, playwright. poet, ,and lecturer, but also for his charm and the genuineness of his democratic ideals. One writer has said that when he re- calls Galsworthy he sees his smile. It is not an impulsive smile, not the smile that ripples over a face unbidden: it is the smile of one who seems to have set him- self to smile, and would rather cry. For Galsworthy being such a sensitive person was greatly affected by the sorrows of life. but one only learned this through his writing, for in public Galsworthy smiled. Above 'I have said that this great author is remembered for his democratic principIes. and I may illustrate my point by the fact that when he had built up his fine reputation, a knighthood was offered him. but he declined it. This tall, gallant gentle- man was unlike most masters of literary production in that he was characterized by a restrained, deliberate habit of mind. Gals- NINETEEN THIRTY-THREE worthy's style seemed to be very much like himself, for this lean, subdued person em- ployed an exceedingly direct and clear method: he displayed extremes in emotions sparingly but his sympathies were broad and deep: he was most certainly a humani- tarian in his love of birds and animals. After reading Escape, a play, and some of Galsworthy's poems, I was struck by the note of reform in his work, and his likeness to Charles Dickens in that both exposed moral and economic evils in their work. Prom Galsworthy's intellectual, digni- fied countenance, his firm features, his de- tached and distinguished manner, We would expect that he might be a judge. We are not very far amiss. for the author studied for the bar in his early years, but although he became a barrister, he did not practice law. However, the legal atmos- phere is present in his novels and plays: he must have the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth: his plot may be compared to the building up of a case, and his legal trait may be shown in his analysis, in the details of character and inanimate objects. and in his sense of pro- portion. But let us consider solely Mr. Gals- worthy's contributions as a poet of mod- ern verse. In this phase of his work his ability to see life as it is and to convert Page One Hundred and Thirty-Hu

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ai Love's a shimmering morning bubble Puffed all gay from pipe of moon: Spu11 aloft on breath of trouble- Burst in air-is gone-too soon! I could go on interminably glorifying Galswo'rthy's paradoxical poem Life, in which a conception of Life and Death is deftly presented: I could spend hours praising the charming comparison of the wind to a wandering gypsy in the poem Wind, and in the poem, To My Dog. written as now you pull my' sleeve g I could dwell long on the humanitarian's love for his dumb animal. However, my attempts to do justice to Mr. Galsworthy's works are far too insignificant: therefore. I leave you to discover for yourself its charms. It is not strange then that when .Iohn QYCAROON AND WHITE Galsworthy left this world a few months ago, England's king, Prime Minister Mac- Donald. and other notables from all parts of the world joined Mrs. Galsworthy in her grief. which they expressed by lengthy messages and by other means. Mr. Gals- worthy, however, was laid to rest with the same austerity which characterized his noble life. There were no flowers save a fitting laurel wreath. Though this gallant gentleman has left us, his gems of poetry will live on and continue to thrill and inspire hearts. And when Death calls across his shadowy fields- Dying, it CCouragej answers: I-Iere! I am not dead! GENEVIEVE PERRI, Class of 1933. QZWCX9 EVENING IN APRIL The long, cold fingers of the winter air, Which caught and clung to every twig and tree, And held enchained each little brooklet fair, Have slipped away and left all nature free. The brooklet now enriched by gentle rain Gurgles to the world aloud in glee, And gossips to the world in glad refrain. As it gambols to the open sea. From the dark deep of the placid cool Where the soft reeds gently bend and sway, Rise myriad sweet voices of the pool To greet the color of the dying day. And where the purple shadows softly creep Beneath the bud of crocus and of rose, Gems of crystal clearness from the deep Lightly on the velvet dark repose. Then over the peaceful world is gently thrown A richer canopy than any ancient earl's, And the moonlight Hlls the Helds just grown With a flood of lustrous, liquid pearls. Alice M errotu. Class of 1934. Page One Hundred and Thirty-seven