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

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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

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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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