Bridgton High School - Corona Yearbook (Bridgton, ME)

Page 17 text:

THE CORONA , 15 SHORT POEMS MY BELOVED COUNTRY My country is a wonderful land, Where thoughts are clear and free, A country of great understanding As clear as the blue of the sea, A country of 1nany great people, Of patriots brave and true: These things help make my country The land of the red, white, and blue. LAURA MCALLISTER, '46, TIME TO GET UP Through the stillness of early morn A light cuts the air like a big, brass horn. It wakes the sleeping beast and fowl, And calls the cats from their all-night prowl. Me-oow !' The rooster hoarsely starts to crow, The hens are uneasy, the creatures know The daily chores have now begun- TODAY is passing on the run! Oh, Junior !' TXTARGARET WENTWORTH, 514. J SPRING When the birds start winging northward, And the trees are budding anew, XV hen the winds from the south are blow- in , Andgthe grass is coming throughg VV hen the day grows hours longer, And the sky is clear and blue: IT's SPRING! VVhen the frogs are croaking in the brook, And the moon is large and yellow, When the nights are nice for dreaming, Each lassie with her fellow, VVhen the earth is nearing its highest peak Rich, and full, and mellow: IT's SPRING! PHYLLIS BUSWELL, 117. GETTING UP STEAM The mill's gray tower like a sentinel Stands guard at the end of the street. The heavy black smoke billows upward Turning gray as the drooping clouds meet. In the dampness it floats downward, Like a mist coming in from the seag The whistle shrieks like a fog-horn It's noon time now, you see! TDYLLENE SMITH, '44. - .. SKATING Over a carpet of crystal glass XVith motions swift and wide, Like something with quickly acquired wings You blithely and silently glide. Sounds come to you from across the ice XVhere merry folk have their play, And jack Frost flirts with everyone On this wonderful wintry day. CONNIE CROSSMAN, '46, WE WANT WINGS Speaking for boys of the U. S. A.- In every skypath rings The roar of mighty planes which say, Come, boys, and earn your wings! Should I live to be four score and ten, My wish until I die, VVould be like that of other men- The pressing urge to ily! GORDON SMITH, '46. l -, A HAUNTED HOUSE The house was dark upon the hill, And shutters creaked in the night so still, The rusty latch upon the door XN'as destined to open never more.

Page 16 text:

14 THE CORONA g over, to Jack's horror, that he didn't want to be buried alive. Later the next evening Ted died. His words of the night before kept running through Jack's mind, as he made sure that his companion was really dead. Early that morning the storm had let up enough so that Jack could bury the body in the snow. When he returned he built a fire with the last of the wood, ate some of the scanty provisions and went to bed. When he awoke it was a grey dawn outside and the cold penetrated the camp. He was startled by an instinct that some- thing was wrong. Looking about the room his eyes fell upon the figure of Ted Houston sitting stiffiy upright in the chair beside the table. Immediately Jack stumbled toward the Figure that was once his dearest friend but was now something horrible. Gathering all his courage, he dragged the body outside and reburied it. VVhen he had finished and had gone back to the camp, he sat for hours trying to puzzle the thing out. As he grew calmer he convinced himself that he had had a horrible nightmare and that he was not insane. To help him stop worrying he got his axe and went hunting for firewood. It was late when he returned and he was more than ready for a good nightys sleep. The next morning when he awoke he was petrified at seeing the same horrible thing happen again. He told himself that he must keep his sanity no matter what happened. Some evil power must be play- ing a game with him. Again Jack buried the body and went dazed into the cabin. That evening he was too excited to get the cabin ready for the night. Jack de- cided that this time he was going to sit up all night and see just what was happen- ing. He took out his diary and wrote down all his thoughts of the episode. But he could not' resist his exhaustion and early in the morning he went to sleep. He awoke late in the afternoon and there was the same cringing nightmare be- fore him. This was too much for him. He was going to make sure this time that it would never happen again. NVith his old hunting rifle he stood over the corpse and shot him through the head. Then he used the last bullet on himself. Late that same night three men came stalking into the camp. One was a stalky- built doctor, one, a sheriff from a nearby town. the other was a close friend of both Houston and Benson. They were sent to search for the two men but when they saw them lying on the floor of the cabin they realized they were too late. At once they all agreed that being lost had worn on their nerves so that they had been in a fight and had killed each other. All this theory was shattered when the doctor examined them and found that Ted was already dead when shot and was also frozen. Investigating around they found a shal- low place, ten yards from the camp, that would be big enough to place a human body in. Around it were dozens of tracks leading to and from the camp. Wliat did all this mean? Ted had been dead for hours, perhaps days, and since he could not have frozen to death, as there was still wood in the camp, there was only one thing left: Ted must have died and jack probably buried him in the grave. But why had he dug up the body, brought hi1n into the camp and shot him when he was already dead! The sheriff then searched the cabin high and low for clues. He almost missed the most important thing, the diary. .He was sure it would contain the missing pieces. In scrawly writing they read of jack's ad- ventures and of his thoughts. Then they all realized what must have happened. When Ted kept saying he didn't want to be buried alive it worked on .Iack's sub- conscious mind so deeply that when he was asleep his inner emotions made him go and release his friend's torture of being buried alive. He tried to remain sane but he was overpowered when it kept repeating. If he had been able to remain awake all through that one night, Jack would have probably been cured of his fear and therefore automatically stop dig- ging up the body. But the last time over- powered him, and he insanely thought that the body was something he could get rid of only by killing and ending his own life. VIRGINIA BRooKs, '47.

Page 18 text:

16 THE CORONA But there were steps on the stroke of twelve! The cobwebs swayed upon the shelves, And souls from Limbo now returned To the eternal task they had rightfully earned. Doomed to sigh, to moan, and shriek Forever and ever While good souls sleep. PATRICIA LOMBARD, '46. MY DAD In spite of your sight, you are thoughtful and kind, It's a shame you must go through your life always blind. You are happy and jolly, filled with poetry and song, You love all thatls right, hate the vulgar and wrong. You are friendly and kind, Dad, good- natured and wise. , I love you sincerely: let me be your eyes! EDNA KILGORE, '46, SKIING When you watch 'em skiing, it looks like fun, Swishing and swooping over a run, But when I try this simple game, I usually end by feeling quite lame. The easy turn that's called a Cristy Still to me is somewhat misty. I try to stop, my skis will cross! I tell myself, Hey, you're the boss ! But now I'm flying above a tree, Both feet are there, but ne'er a ski. It's then this story must surely end, For who goes skiing with bones to mend? SHELDON PRENTICE, '46,