Bloomington High School - Aepix Yearbook (Bloomington, IL)

Page 25 text:

THE AEGIS 23 For all are carnivorous, Scorn the herbivorous Freshman who shuns this omnivorous fun. Sandwiches filled with meat, Some more, some less replete, All of them good to eat: A jitney a piece, For the point is to fleece Our long-suff 'ring pocketbooks, Clean them with grappling hooks, Tho' it pains us a 'coin e'en so small to release. Silent the old halls stand, Gone is the merry band, Just two or three were canned For unseemly noise: Of course they were boys. And John with his trusty broom Sweeps out the messed-'up room, While the infantile freshmen, return to their toys. THE REVERIE OF THE DESERTED HOUSE JULIA HENNINGER. In my walks about the village, I have often noticed a deserted house. Its memory haunts me. In summer, the foliage and flowers try to clothe and decorate it, and in winter, a blanket of snow partially covers the desolation. Thus all the year, Nature protects and sympathizes with its loneliness. Even so, the house is sombre, bare and brown. In the fall, the gaunt branches of the poplars guard the unkempt driveway and the dead leaves murmur in an undertone of sadness. I would smile at the old-fashioned French windows opening on quaint little galleries, but their eyeless stare rebukes me. Aruined summer-house, of the style of Marie Antoinctte's time, recalls the story of that hapless queen. I step across the ruined threshold and see the winding staircase, the high old settle, and the brass andirons, and I wish for the stories they might tell. On entering the parlors in their decayed grandeur, the trees are sighing and bidding me listen. Hearken to the tale the poplars tell of the happy times of the deserted house. Years ago, a young man and his sweetheart on discovering this charming spot, decided to make it their home. And so the house was built and fur- nished handsomely.

Page 24 text:

THE AEGIS Now believeth me I wish ere hyt be nyghte That you ageyn your blissful service lende I needs must use your contents quite To buy a picture to the Aegis for to sende And I do now toward graduation wende I need thy comfort and good companye Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye. Now purse, ye be to me a necessitye And with all ye parties that ha' been And all ye other parties that will be That ye be empty now is ne'er a joke For certes, I now do be dead broke But yet I pray unto your majestye Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye. THE SANDWICH SALE A Member of B. H. S. Down the hall clattering, All of them chattering, Busy tongues pattering, The mothers arriveg Our spirits revive, When we think of the nourishment, Gastric encouragement, And all other benefits we shall derive. Sandwiches? Yes, galore, Piled high on desk and floor, Blocking each class-room door. And into the hall At the bell's stringent call We rush with vociferous Outcries, horriferous, , And the eorridor's packed from the stairs to the wall Sandwiches small and great Fly by us, while we wait, And if we're not too late Perhaps we'll get one And eat on the rung

Page 26 text:

24 THE AEGIS Then came happy times, and all was merry. Little feet pattered thru the halls and danced over the lawn. Christmas seasons with their messages of Peace on Earth, and gifts of love came and Went. Springtimes with their buds of promise unfolded into summers of fruition. Guests of renown were entertained, and open-handed hospitality bade many enter. The halls echoed and reechoed with laughter and song. The pine trees sigh of sadder times. Anxious times follow, when the duties and cares of parenthood perplex the father and mother. One by one, the children leave home. New households demand their attention, and the times when they visit Papa and Mammaf' are few. The old friends, accustomed to the former hospitality, have either for- saken them or gone away. Bent and wrinkled with care, the old pair comfort each other with their love, for not much else have they. O One winter day, the black drapery on the door tells the passer-by that Death has entered, and one is left to grieve alone. An old man peers thru the darkened windows, and listens for the foot- steps that never return. Sitting by his lonely fire he dreams of happier days gone by. At length, after a night of storm, the sun shines brightly thru tear drops of rain for the old lovers are reunited, and the birds sing just as they did on the wedding-day, a half century before. The house stands vacant now, for no one desires that old relic of former days. The pine trees sigh and the poplars whisper the story of human happi- ness. All is quiet except for the shouts of children at play. Now it is a rendezvous for I-Iallowe'en parties, snow-fights and picnics. Sparrows ind lodging in the galleries, and bats fly out of the cupola. I When a former resident returns and walks up the neglected driveway he thinks of the happy times that used to be, and wishes that some one would keep up the place in the old way. 4 The neighbors say, What a pity a fire does not burn the old thing down. The deserted house stands in the solemn grandeur of decay and the pines moan a requiem for earthly happiness. I wander away musing, Oh, visionary World, condition strange, where naught abiding is, but only change, Where the deep-bolted stars themselves still shift and range.