Barstow School - Weathercock Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

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8 THE Wi3A'l'Hi2R-eoczk t succeeding years have out dissolving the mist of romance and sentimen wrapped about them, His Rare Ben is not a thing of beauty with that great pocked face and bull-dog jaws. But Noyes redeems him. A joke were meat and drink to jolly Ben. Were he not eoneoeting some elaborate forgery for Bama. he was swaggering and bragging like a play actor to frighten Dekker, And he could be a warm, strong friend, too. When his companions were in Newgate while he was free, He gripped his eudgel if li if and surged along Chcapside Snorting with wrath, and rolled into the gaol. To share the punishment. But Noyes's greatest triumph is his handling of Will Shakespeare. Think of attempting to paint the sun. and finding onthe canvas. not a star or a moon nor a semblance of the sun, but the very sun itself. 'Tis the elfln Shakespeare that Noyes shows, the Shakespeare that steals the fairy deer for his sweet Anne, Shakespeare, the superman, who understood all things, and because he understood, forgave all things. Better than any statue of Shakespeare could be. is Noyess quiet portrait: Like some rare old picture. in a dream Recalled-quietly listening, laughing, watching. Pale on that black oakcn wainseot floated One bearded oval face. young. with deep eyes. Whom Raleigh hailed as 'Will'! And better than any tribute is that which he puts into the mouth of Greene who, in his jealously, had cried, Trust them notg there is an upstart crow Beautifled with our feathers. - and who. repentant, had generously yieldedg Will, l knew it all the while! And you know it-and you smile! My quill was but a jackdaw's feather, While the quill that Ben. there wields, Fluttered down thro' azure fields. From an eagle in the sun: And yours, Will, yours, no earth-borne thing, A plume of rainbow-tinctured grain. Dropt out of an angels wing. Only a jackdaws feather mine. And mine ran ink. and B-en's ran wine. And yours the pure Pierian streams.

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TALEs OF THE MERMAID TAVERN 7 X ik 3' light gleam of celestial mirth Flit o'er the face of Shakespeare-scarce a smile- A swift irradiation from within As of a cloud that softly veils the sun. l-low light and effervescent is the Companion of a Mile! 'Tis like the first bird song in spring, like a whiff of lilac bloom, like a tenor morris-bell. lt dances tipsily, light-heartedly by. One would almost think the words would dance themselves off the page- - I fitted her with morris-bells, with treble, bass and tenor bells. And o'er a field of buttercups, a field of lambs and buttercups, We danced along a cloth of gold, a summer king and queen. Then listen to him next bawl forth a drinking song. Our Noyes is no molly-coddle. For l-larry the Fourth was a godly king And loved great godly bells! He bade them ring and he bade them swing Till a man might hear naught else. ln every tavern it soured the sack With discord and with din, But they drowned it all in a madrigal Like this at the Mermaid lnn. And then there is the simple, mystic Noyes, the poet who gloats over a sweetly morbid tale and lets his fancy play about a subject awful and solemn until we have a dirge like 'iThe Burial of the Queen. or such a tragic picture as that of Raleighs wife, 'iwith a smile that would make angels weep, nursing his severed head terrible as Medusa. And so in an instant Noyes is the lover, the jester, the moralist, the troubadour, the mourner. What true poet is not! But, like Will Shakespeare himself, the distinguishing quality of the writer of the Mermaid Tavern Tales is a genius for re-creating characters, for making past heroes live again, real yet ideal. To him Raleigh, Gilbert, Marlowe, jonson, Stukeley, Greene, Drayton, Peel. Lodge, Beau- mont and Fletcher have never died. It would seem saerilege to make these gods seem common spirits, and yet it is their very humanness that: so appeals to us. There is something comforting in the thought that they were once men, even as it is consoling to remember jesus was a child. But the danger of such a task is likely to be a shattering of ideals. Noyes, however, has come at the human souls in those Elizabethan geniuses with-

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THE YEAR Q, To catch the spirit of this ambrosial time. to re-create the characters who have helped create us.-for who among us has not absorbed something of Shakespeare?-this is a task to stagger weakness, to expose mediocrity, but to inspire greatness. The greater the subject, the greater the man whomasters it. We could not bear to have our Shakespeare desecrated by a mean spirit: but a poet, and a poet only. may idealize a poet. lf Noyes had written a ditty to a dragon fly or. mayhap. i'An Ode to His Mistress's Eyebrow. he would have been a pleasing versifier only. But instead he wrote Tales of the lvlermaid Tavernlu. bold. unabashed by the magnitude and scope of his undertaking. And his own song deserves his own praise of Shakespeares UVenus and Adonis. A round. sound. full-blown piece of thorough work. On a great canvas, colored like one l saw ln ltaly, by one-Titian! None of the toys Of artistry your lank-haired losels turn. Your Phyllida-l-uve-lies-bleedingA-Kiss-me-Quicks. Your fluttering sighs and lVIark-how-I-break-my-beats, Begotten like this. whenever and how you list. Your Moths of verse that shrivel in every taperi But a sound piece of craftsmanship to last Until the stars are out lf a storm should shake The Tower of London down, Will's house would stand. AMARETTE ROOT. IQI4, The Year bookshelves and boxes, until, by breakfast time. we had amassed quite a hoard of dog-eared. ink-bespattered books. We swallowed our breakfasts in a rush. Then on with our burdens, until we reached the long-loved yellow building, waiting with wide open doors to welcome us. From within there came a buzz of many voices. We climbed the stairs with. as we fancied, an air of resignation1 the shining gilt letters of the NVeathercock E got up early that crisp, October morning and looked through library brought a tinge of sadness, as we thought. of the dear old seniors who had worked so hard for them. But the gloom was soon dispersed. for even the most persecuted martyr could not remain depressed while being slapped on the back. held up for inspection, dragged up. down, and around to be introduced to new girls, new teachers, new desks. new rooms, new anything. The old things we greeted with delight. because they were old, and we knew their every scratch and splinter. the new things we hailed with equal joy. because, while the newness lasted, they would add the