Brigham Young University - Banyan Yearbook (Provo, UT)

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To weary students, days of rest. In woodlands green where the wild bird sings They seek the life they love the best. Did he, dismissing all his care, Enjcy these pleasures with his friends? Did he the useless pastimes share To which our folly ever tends? Ah, no! indulgence in those joys. For which his heart no doubt did long. He did refrain, and left the boys To glory in their happy song. And on the lonely deserts drear. Where coyotes give their mid-night yell. And serpents vile are ever near. And life seems little more than hell — He watched the sheep both night and morn,- And listened to their mocking call. Until it seemed those baas forlorn Were echoed from the mountains all; Or, in the tunnels of mines dark, Where soft daylight is never known; By flickering candle he did work To dig out riches not his own; Else perchance his better fate The duties of a clerk him gave, To smile, and with false patience wait While ladies planned a cent to save; He may have had a farmer ' s hire. And through the hot day drove the team — No matter what he did, ' tis sure He worked, that when the autumn came. He might return to school once more — He worked to gain a worthy name — He worked to please his parents poor. Thus he stands and meditates On this the day of his success. While for those loved ones he waits — Waits for a mother ' s fond caress. Well earned, this pleasure, my brave youth! Enjoy the bliss thy toil has made. ' Tis ever, when we fight for truth, That fate will see us well re-paid. These are the hardships memory brings In grand procession ' fore his eyes; But are there not some happy things? Did not his school bring else, but sighs? Why, yes, of course, most joyous hours Were spent within the dear old walls — He dreams of dances, shows, and showers, Theaters grand, and basket balls. Athletics, how his class excelled. Of trips, and parties by the score. Of sweethearts fair whose eyes compelled His heart to love — all these, and more, Have filled his college days with fun: And now, he comes to say good-by, He fain would wish them just begun. And leaves his class-room with a sigh. — Flossia.

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©i) i rabuate The gentle rays of springtime ' s sun Fall on his tired but happy brow. He knows at last the goal is won — Hard was the fight; what cares he now, The weary years of toil are o ' er, And labor done, if sacrifice Of days that shall return no more. While comrades followed mid-night joys, He has tiresome texts prepared; Not tempted he to join the boys; No passing gain his heart ensnared — But now, his credits all complete, He holds that document so rare; With blissful heart he waits to greet The friends whose kindness placed him there- The coming of those friends he waits Whom God and Nature make most dear; And he their joy anticipates On hearing of their son ' s career. This is the springtime of his life! This is his Commencement Day! The years of never ceasing strife Have, like the winter, passed away. He stands beneath a sky most blue, The songs of birds fall en his ears, And meditations deep review The histories of bygone years. He dreams of papers oft returned With B ' s where he expected A ' s; Remembers how his proud heart yearned For just one kindly word of praise; For he is not a genius who, Like lightning through the stormy skies, Glitters once a brilliant hue And, with that flash, forever dies — In his early life surpassed His classmates and reached marvelous fame Of short duration that did last Scarce longer than the drummer ' s game Of love, which ends the day begun: No, he is like that light which breaks With patience the dark clouds, the sun — That great celestial fire which makes The whole earth glow with wondrous light: Through opposition he has fought, By constant labor day and night. Until at last his pains have brought The long contended prize — success; While they, who brighter far than he, Have been through their own carelessness Lost in that great and unknown sea Of failure, where the whitened bones Of many a gallant sailor lay Who lacked the courage to go on. Thus passed the months of school away. And summer came when they were gone Sweet summer that vacation brings

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Leon Billings, Salt Lake City Hattie Walker. ProTO