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Page 31 text:
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A Girl and ll-ler Dad A girl and her dad on an outing trip- There is a glorious companionship! Traveling along under open sky, Watching the fleecy clouds drift by, Across the stream that rambles along, Over the stones, ever singing a song, And the father is teaching the youngster gay What life has taught him, as they go on their way. Queens nor kings, to this girl can compare, With the gentle father who walks with her there. And the greatest mind of the human race Not for one minute could take his place. The father finds out, to his heart's delight, That his daughter is fit for the future fight. And they travel on in the selffsame way, Forever happy, forever gay. A girl and her dad on an outing trip- Builders of life's companionship! Oh, I envy them, as I see them there Under the sky in the open air, For out of the old, old long-ago Come the summer days that I used to know, When I learned life's truths from my father's lips As I shared the joys of his outing trips. -Virginia White, 27. Dawn Stars fade from sight, the sky grows light, The hush of coming morn draws near, The early birds sing loud their cheer, And Lady Moon sinks out of sight. The faint streaks in the sky grow bright, The tall trees whisper things unknown, fThings no one knows but they, alone,j Then fade the mysteries of the night. The -Sun creeps from his eastern bower, His bright rays peer upon the earth, Then open up the sleeping flowers, The birds sing loud their joyful mirth, The world will sleep for many hours, Unconscious of the dawn's rebirth. -Henrietta Marks, '27. Twenty-
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Page 30 text:
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Momls Birthday OBBIE sat looking thoughtfully at the calendar. Gosh, only two more weeks until school! Why it's the eleventh already-the eleventh of August -now what is the eleventh anyhow? Didn't I hear of that sometime be' fore-? There is something that comes on the eleventh and-and-sure! It's Mom's birthday! Today is Mom's birthday! Five minutes later Bobbie was still perplexed but the problem was a new one. What can I give her? Let me see now. She has candy and everything she needs in the house. All of a sudden Bobbie broke out of his deep thought and leaped into the air-'Tve got it! Sure enough. She always did want one! A stand for her fern, just the thing. He was going to give her just the thing she wanted and he was going to make it himself. He ran to the old shed and began looking for material-and if he wasn't blessed! Why look at the top of that old soap box, won't that make a swell top-and there are two brooms. Why, just cut those handles in half and there you have four good legs. Things certainly are coming my way. ' Bobbie closed the door and began work. After many thumb bitings and muffled Gosh Dams he had the legs and top ready to be nailed together. Why not have a second shelf put on it? The other end of the soap box would do for it. ' As Bobbie was in the midst of his work he heard a knock on the shed door and a long drawn out Ofh! Bofbfbie! He peered out of the door- Come and play ball with us. This came from a boy Bobbie's own age. Aw beat it, can't you see I'm busy? hotly retorted Bobbie and at this he slammed the door in the bewildered boy's face. At last Bobbie's project was finished and he backed off a few yards to survey it. To Bobbie it looked magnificent-because-he had made it What he saw was: four legs, no two of which were the same length, and a square top across which stared Crystal White Soap. It stood about two feet high. The second shelf about one foot from the ground could not be called level, in fact it would takc growing moss to stay on it. Gee, it sure is swell-won't Mom be pleased? just then Bobbie heard foot- steps on the walk outside. He quickly picked up the stand and put it behind the coal bin. Bobbie, what on earth are you doing in here? Turning he saw his mother. - Oh-well-oh, nothing. just looking around for some of my old balls in here. Guess I'll go up to the house. . Bobbie ran into the parlor and started reading a book. Soon he heard his mother moving around in the house and decided he would sneak out through the kitchen. Here he paused momentarily-his eyes fell upon one object in the room, the woodbox. Bobbie blinked and gulped for there he saw four round sticks that were once broom handles, and two flat boards. On one of these he read in glaring letters- CRYSTAL WHITE SOAP. -Douglas Cavagnaro, '28, I unty-
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Page 32 text:
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A Party at Home NE Friday night as I closed my Chemistry book there was a longing in my heart to go somewhere, just where I did not know. So I sat staring at the blank wall. The door opened and my mother came in with an invitation to a party. I was glad to get this invitation even if it had been delayed. I slipped into my mother's room and after dressing and kissing her goodnight I hurried down the hall. This sofcalled party was just a few doors away. When I rang the doorfbell of Mrs. Bedroom's house, her step-children Bert and Bertha Pillow came forward and ushered me in. Nearly all the guests had arrived but they had not started to play any games. Mr. Bolster was busy talking to Miss Chair. Miss Looking Glass told me very frankly just how I looked. She always tells everyone that even notices her, just how he looks and never exaggerates anything. Mr. Mattress and Mr. Springs were talking to the twin sisters, Cora and Dora Sheet, about the last election. When I entered, the twins smiled and offered me a seat between them, and though they were quite cool at first they soon became very sociable. Mr. Comforter and Miss Blanket were telling of their experience as teachers. Miss Spread seemed to be the most attractive person at the party. She wore a silk crepe dress with blue and white stripes. Soon after I entered this circle of close friends I felt very comfortable. We played several games such as Turning, Kick, and Sawing Wood. ' After playing all of these games we took a trip to Dream Land and there we saw many Goblins and Fairies. -Iva G. Murphy, '27. The Rose and the Song For every rose of love men glean, In country lane or crowded street, Another rose, unsought, unseen, Ungathered, dies in its retreat. For every song the ages mold, In mellow notes and harmony, Another song of purest gold, Is lost as treasures in deep sea. But are they lost--the rose, the song, .That lived and died, themselves unknown, Can loveliness be had for long, Or death forget to keep its own? No, Father Time makes up the years, 'Til life finds perfect equipoise, And all the sadness of love's tears, Are lost in gladness of love's joys. -Frances Benedetti, '27, f 'ulv-vlgllt 'l
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