Auburn High School - Follies Yearbook (Auburn, IN)

Page 21 text:

Glass Poe, My theme is a boy starting out into life To brave with mankind all the struggles and strife, That can come to a person throughout the long years; To brave them with boldness and not with weak tears. Although kicked and cuffed by those older than he, As a child he worked hard some great man to be. He saw great men and boys all around him each day; So he used all the power that in him there lay. The next time we saw him, a young man quite fine, He was all for gay fun, and a jolly good time. He had lost the ideals that he had when a boy, And now. cared for nothing but rollicking joy. But yet as years passed, and he older became, He came back in the race, without that disdain Of hard work, which he had a short time before; So he struggled and labored for many years more. As an old man his riches and worth became known, Throughout all the lands, where his great fame had flown. For wisdom they thought him to be without peer. When his death came at last his name remained dear. Not unlike this man’s life has our High-school life been; The same strifes and struggles have met us therein. The boy, with the scorn of his elders to cope, Was the small trembling freshman who worked with great hope. The young man who cared for nothing but fun, Was the Sophomore class of which they counted me one. The Juniors, with all the hard work at that time, Corresponded quite well to the man in his prime.

Page 20 text:

HARRY MCINTYRE This is Harry so solemn and grave, Tho’ he looks cowardly, he really is brave: Thru’ Dutch you ougnt to see him go, For thru’ all the hard passages, he lightly doth row. GRAYCH CONRAD Grace, the artist of the class, Is a pretty, gay and winsome lass

Page 22 text:

lass Poeit--continnen. We Seniors with knowledge and wisdom supplied, With good credit for the work in which we've been tried; Are we not like the man, with his riches and fame, Who, after life’s battles, so honored became? So now that we have our old school and its ties: Thrown out in the world to the top soon to rise: Give us mortal memory, if we’re denied the divine, Please do not forget this class of “ought nine.”