Barnesville High School - Senrab Yearbook (Barnesville, OH)

Page 9 text:

[ S E N R A B 1 i ALMA MATER To Barnesville High we raise our song. Fair high school on the hill, The name that sets our souls on fire, And makes our senses thrill; To B. H. S., our B. H. S., In praise our voices swell, The scenes of happy high school days, The home we love so well. Oh, morning glow which gilds the east, Oh, sun which shines at noon, Oh, stars which bloom at eventide, Oh, radiant, glowing moon; Look from the pathless, azure domes, Shed blessings from above Oh high school halls and high school walls The Barnesville High we love. When from the fold we far shall stray, With souls no longer young, We’ll ne’er forget our high school days, Those happy scenes among; And when our steps have feeble grown, Our journey almost past, E’n then with fleeting breath we’ll praise Our dear old B. H. S.

Page 8 text:

foreword WE, I HE STAFF of 1936, take great pleasure in presenting this, the eighteenth volume of the Senrab, to the students of Barnesville High School. It is our sincere hope that this annual will please our fellow students; and when they have left, may this annual remind them of the wonderful days that they spent in B. H. S. We extend our thanks to Miss Lukens and her art class, Miss Ebert and her typing class, and to the teachers and administration who have given us their full cooperation in producing this annual. — The Staff

Page 10 text:

[ S E N R A B ] A PSALM OF LIFE” Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal: Dust thou art, to dust returneth, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world’s broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,— act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o’erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time. Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o’er life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for every fate; Still achieving, still pursuing; Learn to labor and to wait. — Henry W adsworth Longfellow [6]