Boston Latin School - Liber Actorum Yearbook (Boston, MA)

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CHARLES WILLIAM FRENCH

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Qibecbcafion We, the Class of 1951, are deeply honored to dedicate this, our Lzler Actorum, to our esteemed friend and re- spected classmate, Charles W. French. More than just a teacher, Mr. French has made an indelible impression upon each of us who have had contact with his diligent instruction and parental teachings. We shall always endeavor to lead the sincere, honest, healthful life of which Mr. French is so outstanding an exemplar. 7 . gfellll' If eflffage Congratulations to the members of the Class of '51 for your achieve- ment in winning the long-sought crown of virtue-a Latin School diploma. Like Cornelia of Rome, Alma Mater proudly embraces you, her sons, as she sends you forth with the confident expectation that you will always cherish the heritage and enrichment of mind and character that she has bestowed upon you. May many of your names be added to the long list of her outstanding alumni. Soon your generation will assume the duties of American citizenship. With the foundation laid in this school plus years of college experience you will be regarded as potential leaders. Consequently, serious, indeed, will be your responsibilities in helping preserve this nation from the perils, internal as well as external, that threaten its very existence. It behooves you to be loyal and patriotic, to live clean lives, to work hard, and to trust in your God. By following these precepts, your dreams of a better world and your own happiness and success may well be realized. Best wishes to you all. 0 Wi? We W . 7,5 ff f

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.570 Soon el96U'teJ CLASS POEM Come back, O innocence and laughter, Carefree, wind-wild, heart-sprung! l Gushing, pure, spontaneous, Return to me, O Youth! Thy brow, silk-soft, unscarred . . . Thine appled cheeks, thy smile . , . All the wonderful things, Come back! come back! come back! -The magic time, the Spring-Song time. The happy, happy heart, The golden hour of peek-a-boo, of skipping in the sun! Even the unwonderful things, even those, come back! The hurts and aches, The dark, dark Dark, The terror of the Night, The terror and the tears that stung, The prayers no one heard, The times I was alone and didn't want To be alone And was afraid- All, all and more, come back! O child! O once-upon-a-me! O little boy with trousers tom And muddy shoes H And fingers, oh, so little and so often bleeding, O naughty little boy, return! O whence and whither gone, and why! Where are you, how, O cherished O dearly to be loved, how lost? Come back, O swiftly grown, So faraway flown, So soon departed! I didn't even say goodbye! HIRSCH JOSEPH SIMCKES