The Bush School - Tykoe Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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LITERARY LEAVES UF T lE TYKOIE :big 5 ,., fgf' Mx wpfsis if' M' Wvx This poem was voted the yeafs best by the Senior Class. . WE WHO WATCH Over our heads, gray bombers roar Where once, the birds alone did soar. In lazy circles they did fly For they had their way, in the deep blue sky. But now these birds have given way To the might of man, as he is toeday. New birds fly, so big, so strong, With a noise so loud it echoes long. These new birds fly in no lazy way, For they have a job to do, tofday. They guard the shores of the land we love, A task too great, for the gentle dove. O'er the Atlantic, Pacific too, These birds carry the Air Force blue To stop invasion by bolstered men, Who failed in the past, and willh-again. BEBE PAUL, Senior :SSL SUN RISE It is morning, ten minutes past eight, and I am on my way to school as usual. This is a fine morning. The air is keen but not cold. There is a band of haze stretched across the horizon like a strip of filmy gauze. Melting frost sparkles like bits of ground diamond on every blade of grass. I wonder at the all pervading serenity. No breeze is loose to flutter the leaves on trees. All nature is standing at attention. Why this lull? Why this feeling as though the whole earth were stricken void of movement? I ascend a slope facing east and look out across the lake. The hills, clearly outlined against the pale sky, are as flat and monochromatic as a cardboard stage drop. A few puffy white clouds hang lazily above. As I watch, the sky seems to blush, taking on a pinkish tint that gathers strength and diff fuses throughout the heavens. Now I understand the stillness all about me. Nature is waiting. Waiting for her king to appear and take over the rule of this hemisphere. The cottony little clouds are suddenly afire with color, like a blast Page Forty-two from fanfaring trumpets. Their brightness spreads a carpet of reflected light across the calm waters of the lake. Now the whole sky is aglow with flaming brilliance. Time seems to stop as His Majesty, the Sun, glowing, proud, and mighty, steps across the Threshold of Day. The climax has passed and tension is released. Leaves rustle softly. A playful breeze ripples the lake's smooth surface. Nothing man can create is greater or more resplendent than the daily rising of the sun. An automobile whizzes past me putting an end to day dreaming. Down to earth once more and on to school. I fear that I shall not be able to get there before the second bell rings. I visual' ize myself at the office explaining, I am late because I stopped to watch His Majesty, the Sun, cross the Threshold of Day- . JOANNA PRATT, Junior CQ.. HYMN TO FRANCE QWvit1:en shortly after the fall of Francej There's a spirit behind a nation, A faith that never dies But fights for a hard earned victory And wins the hard sought prize. Your people will be free, Your flag will fly again, Birds will sing in Paris, Your oppressor will be slain. The simple maid of Orleans Freed you once before, That spirit never will die, Victory will come once more. Pierre, Maria and Jeanne Put your faith in God, Your land is one of glory Where the brave have trod. Joan, your France is calling, Lead them through the fight Let morning come with victory, End this dreadful night. The world has ne'er been able To keep you down for long, Sing loud La Marseillaise - It is a victor's song. MARY ROLFE, Senior

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Stirrat and Nina Vkfinslow are treating us to dinner. Thursday is Class Day and the last time for the coming graduates and school to get to' gether hefore the fateful day. Friday, june fourth, will he the climax of twelve years' study. The graduation ceremony will hegin with an invocation hy the Rev. Elmer B. Christie, The senior speakers, Sylvia Clise, Marylu Parker, Virginia Poole, and Patti Plank, will he introduced hy Beverlie Lawson. Behe Paul, who was vicefpresident of the student hody this last semester, is going to present the tradif tional gift to the school. There will he a solo performed hy Mary Rolfe, one of the most talented memhers of the Senior class, hesides a trio composed of Virginia Price, Bonnie J. Berg and -lean Oshorne, who will sing Eliiah hy lvlendelssohn. The relations lietween the United States anu CALENDAR Canada are very close at this time so we feel very honored in having Evlyn Fenwick Farris, M,A., LL.D, who is on the Board of Regents at the University of British Columhia, and who was the first woman speaker to give the eommeneef ment address at that university, as our speaker at this year's graduation. The highlight of the program is the receiving of the longfawaited diplomas, after which we greet our joyous friends and relatives. Jeanne Goss is following graduation with a luncheon for the mothers and daughters at her home. The last event in Senior Vxfeek is a swim' ming and dancing party at Leslie Denmanis home in the Highlands. We will have had a strenuous time from lvlay twentyfninth to june fourth, hut we'll all agree there will he happy memories that can never he taken from us. is-if v- fab 8 VW: rs-fgfsw The parents partake of the Christmas buffet. Page Forty-one

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NEW 'YORK To you, my city, I return With joyful heart, As light as your warm, soft breeze That blew gently against my thin summer dress. With free step, As free as it was when I skipped Lightly home from school each day, Two pigtails flying out behind me And my arms swinging in rythm to the carefree tune I hummed. To you, my city, I return with outstretched arms. You, my faithful city, have not changed. You stand as noble and undaunted As you were the day I left, Your rugged skyline waiting there To welcome meg Uneven as it was when I first saw it, A thing of beauty, not because Some artist planned it, But because a million people, With a million more ideas, built it. Each with his own goal, Yet all with one: To build you, my city, to love, Live in, leave, and best of all, My faithful city, to come back to. So as I return once more to you, my city, My heart is light, My step is free, I But somehow I am not the same. I have traveled, I have lived as other people live, Eaten as they eat, gone where they go, Heard what they think of you, my beloved city, Disagreed with them on many points And come back again to you. I have learned countless things about the world and the people in it, Learned to appreciate you, your subways and your crowded streets, Your skyscrapers and paper shacksg And to know, As only we, your sons and daughters who have gone away from home Can know, what joy there is in traveling, And that the greatest joy is in returning to you, MY City- JACQUELINE BINNS, Sophomore ffl- SONNET When steel on steel their ringing tones resound A thousand mighty men their voices raise In stirring patriot's hymn's and songs of praise When labor last is as defeature crowned LITERARY And man with dire oration doth expound. A sea of blood and hatred floods the days When fruitful produce is destroyed with raze. This is the purity of peace and fray profound Too well I know the sentinels of time Are watching broken paths untraveled yet, Still blood and war and hate rush on with zeal To dash against the toil of yours and mine. This force of hate, is it so fully whet That mankind crumbles at the power of steel? BONNIE JEAN BBRG, Senior eil. CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH CShakespea1e, 19435 Crabbed age and youth Cannot live together. Youth is full of jitterbug Age is full of pomp, Youth loves cokes and juke box, Age loves cheery hearths. Youth likes Benny Goodman, Age likes symphony. Youth is full of jive, Age is just alive. Youth is crazy, age is sane, Youth is gay and spright, Age is bent and tight. Youth is laughing at sober age- Age, how they scorn thee! Youth, let me warn thee: Soon, old age, old age you'll see, Youth will flee, Don't old age, hurry me- I soon enough with you shall be. DOROTHY JESSUP, Senior C15 FIGHT FOR FREEDOM We can learn-in learning study We can think with our minds free But in learning, life is ruddy We rise above this sinful sea. We are glad to live and prosper Whatever others' thoughts may be, We can lend our help to others Continuing unselfishly. What do men in England fight for? What do our men dream of next? What's behind the guns in this war? Fight for Freedom is our text! We must continue fighting onward, Striving for the longfearned peace Till the hearts of all look upward And all the sense of wrong will cease. BARBARA EARLING, Sophomore Page Forty-three