The Bush School - Tykoe Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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LITERARY Sxxk X I 1 293 Q- X Vlffgp-' A, .C 11' 'QX RX KN's iff, f fi Li X xqs Ma M' : vm This was chosen for the prose honorable mention by the Senior Class Linder met her brother, who had just arrived home on leave from the Near East, at the sta' tion. It was just an ordinary meeting, like the hundreds of others that go on day and night during warftime. They left the platform together with three days before them to make up for the three years that the war had kept them apart. Three days wasn't long, but to them it meant a great dealg it meant that for three days they would go away together, forget about the war, and be almost happy. So it was that brother and sister went down to the country together, happy for the little time that had been given them to be happy, and eager to snatch what little had been given and transform it into a wonderful three days that could always he remembered, and, if it were fated that could take the place of a lifeftime. It was both right and wise then, that they should forget about the war and for three full days should be lost in the joy and laughter of a countryside bursting with the newness of spring. They did all the things that they used to do before the war and had done as far back as they could remember. They climbed the hill with the wind blowing in their faces, and finally ex' hausted by the climb, they threw themselves panting on the grass and looked upward into blue depths of heaven, where, in a month's time, the skylarks would be singing. Recovering they climbed farther and stood finally at the top looking down on the peaceful village beneath and out beyond across the green vale, where still lingered here and there white wisps of early morning mist. They walked for hours in the Woods where the yellow primrose and the blue of the graceful bluebells carpeted the ground. They climbed on the banks to gather the violets, and they walked in the shady dells where the lilies of the valley smelled so sweet that the fragrance seemed to linger even when its bearer had been left far behind. They walked on the hills where the lamps played and where the hares, although March was passed, were still carrying on their crazy antics. They talked to the old farmer on the hill and saw his young calves and a foal with a nose that felt like velvet. They had tea with the vicar and looked over Page Forty-four the wall at the daffodils growing in the church graveyard. They went one night, under a bright moon, to visit the fox's earth in a nearby cover, and they know by the rank smell that issued forth and by the newly turned earth that it was occupied this year as always. On their last day they took their lunch and followed the brook to its source, then spent the afternoon lying on their stomachs among the buttercups gazing into the depths of a still pool at the lazy trout swimming below. That evening they went back to London to' gether, and there in the midst of the bustle of Paddington Station they said goodfbye. Each went back to his job of winning the war, glad for the three days that had been theirs. PAT POPE, Junior CQ.. OPINIONS Some long for the city's roar and bustle, Others for the quiet of home, But I'll take the open road and country Free where I can roam. Some like the noise of busy streets, The honk of horns, the motors' drones, But my ears prefer the country sounds Natures' own soft muted tones. Some live for wealth and riches, While others live for fame, But I live to enjoy the freedom That is this country's name. SANA I-IARRAH, Sophomore eil. A CHILD'S PRAYER FOR PEACE Oh God, you made the earth and heaven, You created all mankind, That is why I ask your guidance, This is what is on my mind. My Daddy's long since gone to battle, He's my hero brave and true, I know he'll win but Mama's worried That's why I've come to you. I must be brave and comfort mother, You have other work to do. All I want is my own Daddy To come home safely when he's through. MARY ROLFE, Senior

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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

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