Barre High School - Barretone Yearbook (Barre, MA)

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WHAT FUTURE YEARS WILL BRING Along the old brick high school wall Grow ivy vines so very tall. Each class day they are planted there To grow and flourish without care. They must endure the sun that shines Upon their leaves and on their vines — With winter’s snow to tolerate And gentle spring, - co-operate. These plants are set by those who must Endure life’s hardships and who trust That life, like ivy will progress To prosper on without recess. Some wish and yearn to find success While others hope for happiness. A few may in a century Be praised and kept in memory. Some will be faced by risk and strife While most will lead a common life. I wish that all may sometime see God’s love and care, eternity. — ALDONA SLUCKIS THE SEAMSTRESS April is stitching with needles of rain. Her silver thread flashes again and again. She’s making a garment that cannot be seen, But soon it will cover th earth with green. Soon in the grass her embroiderv will show Where daisies shine primly like flakes of white snow. And where the shy violet lifts her wee face To add to the soringtime her fragrance and grace. Yes. April is stitching with fine liquid thread. She’s stitchine the patterns of each flower bed. She’s stitching the bark and the leaves of the trees And every green blade that will sway in the breeze. April’s a seamstress unmatched in her skill. She’s alwavs brought springtime and she always will. She’s a kind little lady who uses her art To make earth a garment that gladdens the heart. —PALMA PULIAFICO FIRST DAY AT BARRE HIGH The day of davs had co.me at last. We’d entered Barre High. But before the day was finished I thought I’d nearlv die ' I wandered through the halls confused Upstairs and down I sped. I entered rooms and rooms again From every one I fled The school bus was late that day. My friends I couldn’t find. 23

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MY SUMMER ' S DREAM Oh how I love the summer. The time when school lets out. When the truant officers all home. And I can fish for trout I can sit among the daisies, And dream of Howard Duff, I can dream about a million stars. And still not dream enough. I ' ll dream about Rod Cameron. And handsome Errol Flvnn, I’ll dream about tall Gregory Peck, And also Jeffrey Lynn. I ' ll dream about the cowboy. ' A1 La Rue and all. I’ll dream of all the actors Who are big and strong and tall. Oh how I love the summe ' ' . When I can sit and dream. Dream of all the movie stars. Shown upon the screen. — 3y BARBARA BOYLE SPRING! The pi ' ettiest season of the vear When all the May flowers bring good cheer The buds all red on the Maple trees With a slight tint of light green leaves The violets bright, and Robins gay Say with delight, “It’ll be a great day.” And then there are brooks, like silver strea.ns And odd water lilies like rare dreams. Frogs peeping in a near by pond And bright forsythia bordering the lawn With early morning sunshine and evening dew This season should please more than a few. —CHRISTINE OHLSON BASEBALL TIME Baseball time is here again And every team has their men Playing as hard as thev can Trying to please every fan Thev practice in the earlv Spring Trying to accomplish manv a thing Trying to make a winning team So that thev will be supreme. They cannot win every game But if thev could, oh what fame They would acquire from evervwhere Playing the game and plaving it fair. —By RALPH LINCOLN

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’Twas Seniors and the Sophomores And there I was behind. I was huddled in a corner And watched the crowd go by. And I wondered if the freshmen class Were all as scared as I. Then, someone said that in room two The greenest class would sit. I figured they must be the freshmen The name really seemed to fit. We had just got nicely settled When the bells began to ring. And startled glances wondered what The ringing bells would bring. It meant the classes had to change. And the freshmen had to find Another room to settle in, If no one seemed to mind. We huddled in the hall awhile Debating where to go And wondered, should we go upstairs? Or should we go below? Thus passes this day at Barre High. Each freshman wished anew That he were back in grammar school And never would get through. We’ve met and mingled many times. Since that eventful day And learned to love old Barre High In the good old fashioned way. —By CLAIRE BURGESS OUR GREEN YEARS Fortune smiles upon us Throughout our years at school Although we’re blind to see it Under stress of rod and rule. Learning is a problem And studying a chore But too late do we realize Such happiness is o’er Teachers seem against us: They really aren’t at all: But rather trying to help us In a world that seems to call. Our green years are the best years The happiest of the rest Yet age alone appreciates Our school days as the best! —BEVERLY RICE 24