Agnes Irwin School - Last Strand Yearbook (Rosemont, PA)

Page 62 text:

Now the ocean is nearly reached. Soon the girls who have worked together so many years will leave school with all its difficulties and its pleasures. It will be hard to separate and leave the well-known way of our school-days and the friends whose companionship has meant so much to us. But above all will we be sorry to leave those who have helped us and who have made us feel their sympathy and love through everything. It is they who have guided the little rill from the mountain side, and watching over it with infinite patience, have turned it into the broad stream, ready, through them, to enter anything that may lie beyond. ' ANNA BINNEY BRINTON r fkr' 58

Page 61 text:

M 1 ii 1 W O in Valedictory Once a tiny stream was born half-way down a mountain side. It was made up of many springs and little trickling threads of water from far up the great mountain. Some had sprung from beds of luxurious woods others fro d , m eep down in barren, sandy soil, but one and all met in this one stream. It was a hard course winding down the mountain side. Here and there great trees and rocks stood in its would meet again beyond the difliculty. But not always. Sometimes a tiny branch would take such a large bend th t 't ld ' ' ' a 1 cou not find its way back, and so the stream would go on without it. Every year it was joined by new waters and every year old waters would stray away by mistake, or alas! sometimes from will, and never come back. At last the stream grew into a wide river, made up only of the strongest waters, and they flowed evenly together in a wide, unswerving channel. And now, far in the distance could be heard the deep roar of the ocean, and the river quickened and seemed to Hy over the pebbles. It had many friends: the rain, and the wind, and the sun, who urged it on, guiding it kindly through grassy meadows and helping it over difficult places. 57 way, and its waters would fork to find the best channel and

Page 63 text:

Good-Bye? The shadows gather, lengthening on the grass, Softly, like fragrant sighs, the night winds pass, The dusk is deepening, falling from the skyg And through the twilight comes a note,- good-bye. The birds are silent, each has :found his nest, Their very silence seems to bid me rest, Yet waiting still I stand, scarce knowing why- Hearing a whisper low that says good-bye. What is it makes my heart and pulse beat slow? Why, through the twilight, do I hear that low Half-whisper? Can it be that I Have reached the place where I must say good-bye ? My childhood calls me through the deepening dark, A half-forgotten sigh Hoats byg yet hark! Is that another note so clear and high? Surely to everything 'tis not good-bye. There through the dusk, a silver beam of light Shines like a spirit pure from out the night. The world grows clear again,-the moon on high Rides all serenely on. 'Tis not good-bye. All is beginning then, the dark has flown. We still have memories of what has gone. Life lies before us, may God light the way, Help us to use aright each perfect day. MARJORIE PAUL Moluus 59