Atlantic Christian College - Pine Knot Yearbook (Wilson, NC)

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Ralph Smith, Senior Class Sponsor 22

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Senior Class Poem Once I sat in the twilight, Looking from my window; At the oncoming darkness oj night And the things that had shone in splendor. The wind was cold and shrill. As the sun s rays were passing away. All without was still; It seemed as the end of a perfect day. Looking into the shadows, Till they seemed to disappear; And then, overhanging the meadows. If as the sky so very clear. In the distance was an angelic form. As though a messenger of Fate Coming with a task to perform. Or some story to relate. I looked again, and he was near— A herald with news to inform. An angel of life with destinies to steer, That fortunes may not be forlorn. My h eart I opened to my Heavenly Guest, And I listened to his message, too. Hoping that what he said would be best. And glorious and kind and true. This messenger of great surprise Came during my dream of silent longing; To brighten the horizon of my wishful skies, Directing my thoughts that came thronging. I fancied he opened a Book of Knowledge, A History of all that teas ever done. Such a book Tve never found in college. Telling oj all that will ever come. Then I tried to think of something to ask This messenger, something I'd like to know. At once I thought about my College Class, Wondering into what each one should grow. Turning the leaves until finding the pages W here our future was recorded. He said, “From this class there shall be sages That some day will be rewarded. “All of you will be great leaders. And soar to realms sublime— Musicians, Teachers, Preachers, and Readers— As the ladder of life you climb. “ Your work and tasks you have done in splendor. But you've not reached your goal; For there're great services that you must render. And great problems to unfold. Then he turned and soon teas out of sight. As clouds disappear and new ones are born. Then waking from my dreaming in the twi- light. It ’most seemed as 'twas early in the morn. Now, fellow-classmates, we launch from A.C.C., From scenes of happy days— Foundations builded strong trusting them to be. Able to stand firm in all our ways. Scene of college days where through much toil W e struggled to master and have dominion O'er facts and truths not to be unfoiled. And not o'er things of mere opinion. To thee, Alma Mater, ice say. Farewell. May thy halls stand up in our dreams. But, rising and flowing like water from a well, W e must sail on—on down the streams. Memories of thee we'll ever keep through life; For, dear Alma Mater, we owe to thee Thy guidance in conflict and strife. So, Farewell to thee! Farewell to thee! 24 Rupert A. Phillips. ’20.