Bourne High School - Canal Currents Yearbook (Bourne, MA)

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School GOD BLESS BOURNE HIGH SCHOOL (Sing to the tune of God Bless America”) God bless our high school, School that we love, May she guide us. Watch beside us As we learn here, and then go above. From the first year To the last year. May she help us. On our ways; God Bless Bourne High School, Now and always. Edward Ellis, ’43. THE SOPHOMORES CONSIDER BOURNE BRIDGE This is called a beautiful bridge, The way it’s built, the way it stands. Jack Weeks When I have reached the other side, I am glad to look back and see a masterpiece. Jack Thom From afar Comes a car; Its lights are welcomed By this gigantic thing Whose very girders Seem to sing. Robert Lindquist I like the pretty sight of this bridge lit up at night; It seems to me then to really have life. Nathalie Thamales THE CANAL Sometimes it is blue, gray, green; Somtimes a mixture of these colors. The rip-rap on the banks is gray And above that the green grass shows. The seagulls overhead streak down Only to go up again With a fish in their beaks. The boats passing through Churn the w ' ater white. On a windy day white-caps Crow ' n the waves with foam As if each one meant to say, I am the King.” Elaine Anderson, ’43. THE CANAL By the swirling green waters. Thru this mammoth monster. Pass the bonds of nations. Ships sailing on and on. Richard Eldridge, ’43. On this great and magnificent structure A professor could give quite a lecture. John Jenkins It looks very much like the roller coaster at Nantasket Beach. Margaret Boffetti Our bridge so big, so strong, and gray. Stands staunch and sturdy against the sky; It seems impossible it has been built by man alone. So big, so strong, and gray. Clayson Tucy ♦ ♦ ♦ The bridge is like a statue against the sky. Sheldon Philbrick ♦ ♦ ♦ She is a throne reigning over the water — Her power and strength are as mighty as a lord’s. Gloria Holt Page Thirty -one

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School She became the aide of a surgeon after lying when she said she had wit- nessed operations. The French army had retreated. Wounded were pouring in. The Germans had crossed the Marne. Rebais was close to th e scene of battle. She stayed with the men that were too wounded to leave, giving them comfort. For the first time she saw a man cry and she said she hoped it was the last time. He was crying not because he was hurt but because of his wife and children, whom he was helpless to protect against German cruelty. The Germans were trapped and, as the tide turned, Madame turned home- Vv ' ard. She had heard reports that the German general had made his head- v]uarters in her home, the Chateau. She traveled over the battlefields and through the foul-smelling atmosphere to reach the shell that was her home. The vandals had ruined everything and left the place in such a condition of hlth and dirt that it took all her courage to begin again. She did, however, :ind also set up a hospital to continue her work to the end. Madame Huard was a remarkable person. Her ability to cope with any emergency is her outstanding characteristic. She writes in a simple, frank manner, portraying vividly the scenes of war and the reactions of herself and other people to those scenes. Isabel Handy, ’4l Magic Magic always seems to suggest strange and far-off lands, the realm of the impossible. Children and even grown-ups have so much fun watching a magician perform. Then someone spoils it by telling that it is not magic but just illusion that makes rabbit appear and cards disappear. Yes, we like to be fooled, especially now in a world of such realism. But magic is not just in the things a magician does. There is magic in Nature. Nature performs difficult tricks that no magician may learn to per- form. She turns the leaves from cool green to flaming reds and yellows; she gives birds magic to find their way in migration; she paints beautiful sunsets, ever changing, no two the same. In winter there are white pictures on the v indows and warmer coats for the animals. From the cold grey dead of win- ter, new life comes forth in the spring — there is magic in nature. There is magic in beautiful workmanship, in a perfect painting, in stir- ring music, in a graceful building, in any task well-done. There’s magic in people, in friends, in laughter, in a quiet conversation. There’s magic in living — there’s magic in everything — if you can find it. Claire Healy, ’42 On New Year ' s Resolutions We all make resolutions the first day of January every year. We say, Yes, this year I’ll get up in time to catch the bus,” or ' My home- work will always be ready by class time,” or sometimes even ' Tm going to get up a little earlier so that the dishes will get washed and my bed made before school.” But, by the middle of February, we are found getting up five minutes before the bus goes and hurrying just before class trying to get our homework done. So this year I am making the resolution to keep my resolutions! Catherine Handy, ’44 Page Thirty

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School THE BRIDGE Great bridge, so strong and mighty And yet so graceful, too. Do you mind having autos Constantly pass over you? The great ships sail beneath you. The waters flow on and on. You’re black against the sunset And rosy with the dawn. You rise majestically above The earth and all its noises; I w ' onder, some deep winter nights. Can you hear angels’ voices? Dorothy Dixon, ’43. THE MIGHTY BRIDGE I looked, to see across the ridge. The looming girders of a bridge. The great grey span hovers oh! so high. And mingles among the birds of the sky. Day in, day out, you keep your place. And fling your mighty body into space. How I’d like to be like you, Ga 2 ing down from out of the blue. Deane Boyden, ’43. BRIDGES BEAUTIFUL They speak of bridges beautiful. That they build across the sea, In Russia, France, Bulgaria, England, Germany, And yet in our United States, I find A bridge more beautiful, The work of master minds. And as I rise each morning. And I look up from my bed, The sun, its span adorning. Turns it to a lustrous red. This is my bridge beautiful Though it’s not really mine. But it’s just as great and beautiful As those across the brine. Bernard Stockley, ’43. THE BRIDGE You hang there in most lofty space. While autos roll o’er you, quickening pace. You hang there with nothing to do. But look at a most wonderful view. You see the sun rise every day And see it set behind the bay. You see the moon, a pale ghost. To which you are the only host. Lucien Bachand, ’43. THE BRIDGE The dark gray bridge Against a light gray sky. And the river underneath, With the water rushing by. The bridge! So wonderful That no man can stand and not sse Its wonderful, glorious, majesty. The dark gray bridge Against a light gray sky. With the water churning white. As the boats sail by. O Bridge! With your towers of cement. No man has looked at you. Without having sent Up a prayer of thanks for such Wonderful, glorious majesty bent In an arc of dark gray gleam. With underneath what used to be. Just a little stream. Elaine Anderson, ’43. ♦ ♦ ♦ THE BRIDGE Never a sway or word of sorrow; Because this bridge lives a life of horror. People may abuse it, call it names; But this thing has no heart because It is made of steel and horror. Every night this bridge of horror Is covered over with a blanket of mist. But it does not care because it has lights To light the way. Theodore Wing, ’43. Page Thirty-tiuo