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

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WAROON AND WHITF MOONLIGI-IT AND BLACKBERRIES On the night when the August moon had reached its zenith, I found myself alone in the midst of a thick blackberry patch leisurely filling my tin pail. Dusk was spreading its dreamy mantle upon the earth when I set out with my pail to get some berries for breakfast. As I waded mincingly through the tall weeds. the crickets and katy-dids sang a lullaby to my heart. They played upon the harp of my emotions, gently caressing the strings of discord and discontent until they were stilled. Only a calm. quiet feeling of happiness and content did these wee mites leave me for soul company. I chose my patch and diligently began picking the big, soft. juicy fruit luring me deeper and deeper into the brambles. A lit- tle elf of determination ever prodded me on to pluck a luscious fruit just beyond my reach. As Diana glided further in her sil- very chariot, the magnetism of the berries became more potent. There was in my mind that warm summer night, a new de- sire to push ever onward to reach the more luscious fruit. Wrapped in the silver-flecked robe of Night, I compared the stretching deeper and deeper into the brambles to reach the richer fruit with Life. Just as the magne- tism of the beautiful ebony-colored ber- ries lured me into the thicker and more tangled brambles, so would the magnetism and allure of the promised fruits of Life forever entice me into its tangled maze. When I brought my brimming pail into the cottage, I looked for the choicer fruit, but found that they all looked alike in the glaring electric light. The moon- light had revealed a golden secret which it had never intended to fulfill, So, too, do we humans forever reach for the fruits of Life, and when we have plucked them, we find that they are not the fruits at all, but lost illusions tinted by roseate dreams. CATHERINE PECCHIONI. Class of 1933. REVERIE I stood on a lonely hilltop at the close of a weary day, And I thought of our happy childhood, of the games that we used to play. I thought of our days at college, of the girl that lived next door. The thrill of our try at business, and after that-the War. Somehow when I stand on this hilltop in our own beloved land. I can hear the voice of a comrade, feel the clasp of a friendly hand. Though it was in the War that you left me, with a short, sad message to send, gYou'll always be here beside me, my pal, my buddy, my friend. 'Y .'-. '4 -I V 'b'1?QL?r,i:' E .au YNIINETEEN THIPcfl'XfTHREE -Evelyn McCullough Class of 1933. Page One Hundred and Forty-seven

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MAROON AND WHITE untroubled heart for that desertion charge was given up years ago. Yours for a happy winter. Job Claypool When I had finished reading the above. I fell into a swoon probably caused by tremendous mental reaction. and through the darkness I saw his leering face with its insidious smile, and when I awoke I grew hysterical from thinking about the devil's deceit who had led me to the gal- lows. Oh, there they are now. My saviors, my deliverers from a fate worse than death. Now, gentlemen, if you will al- low me to finish this last line, I will go with you willingly and happily. No, I am not getting light-headed, gentlemen. just light-hearted, yes, that is it just light- hearted. Soon my mind will be free from the torture it now undergoes, and I ask you, gentlemen. should one be sad when he is about to be relieved from suffering? HOWARD GURVITCH. Class of 1934. SEA EVENING The horizon is a sharp, clear line against the orange of the Sunset, like a moving range of mountains. Peaks rise. and then slowly slip away into valleys. as the tireless sea moves about. A steady. warm breeze whips the spume from the crests of waves, brdaking it into salty mist. There are few clouds. and the weary sun. seeming strangely dull and deep- colored after its glaring brilliance of mid- day. is wholly visible as swiftly and more swiftly it slides over the horizon. Watch it closely, and you will see. just as it dis- appears, a quick, electric flash of green. There! It's gone. The sea is changing from the deep blue of the day to the dull black of night, and the yellows of the sky slowly deepen to orange and red, while dark shadows creep over from the east. Lights spring out on deck now, and our ship seems even more isolated than during the day: a brightly lighted island in an infinity of darkness. All outside light has been smothered by Page One Hundred and Forty-six the grey hordes of night. except. clearer and nearer. the comforting stars. and. when that lonesome cloud passes, the large and motherly moon. In these latitudes. heaven is nearer earth, and the moonlight seems to have a warmth wholly different from the eerie coldness of the northern moonbeams. Recurrently water poles up at our bow and rushes out in a wild charge of silvery foam. with tiny phosphorescent lights gleaming in the depths. Moonlight gleams on waves, changing them to herds of wild horses. or rolling hills of a countryside. or fields of gleaming snow. as imagination may turn. We look out of our small spot of light into the veiled darkness. the alluring un- known. Soft music in tune with the beat of the sea on the hull. Shall we dance? The best part of our day is here. ideal for lovers. evening on the Caribbean. GEORGE STOCK, Class of 1933. NfNETEEN THIRTY-THREE

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MAROON AND WHITE One of the Dramatic So:iety's subscription performances. Saved . One of the Dramatic Society's subscription performances. The Good Provider . 4 Page One Hundrrd and Forty-:iight