The Bush School - Tykoe Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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80 LITERARY IMPERIALISTS He feeds and grows on undone work, On lovely paintings, still in mind, On lilting lines of poetry, Still to one's thoughts confinedg On words unwritten, Thoughts unspoken, Plans unfinished, News unbrokeng And gloating o'er these unborn treasures, Gloating, growing, gorging, swell- ing, Fatt'ning on these unborn treasures Lurks unseen the black imp, Time. But all the same he's looming larger, Gloating, growing, looming larger, While the hopeless mound of futile plans, ideas, hopes of men, Frail ghosts of things that might have been, Moves onward toward eternity, to perish unexpressed. And so the hungry black imp, Time, Devours the hopes and plans of men and fatter grows, Until at last he rears his ugly head And cast's a despot's shadow over all. No longer does he skulk behind the scenes, And nibble, rat-like, at the crumbs that fall, But leering, laughing, seizing what he wants, He turns his naked countenance on earth, And with his ever-growing greed Makes hopeless slaves of men. HBabs Peyser--Junior

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LITERAY IMPERIALISTS For dinner there is nothing better, QMuch to his disrnay,J Than himself all baked in butter. Oh! unhappy day! So we'll leave our little friend a- boiling, In his grease so deep. He didn't succeed the axe in foiling, Oh, turkey don't you weep! Ann Denny-Sth Grade 'Feef-the noise a turkey ma-kes when he is hungry. SHOES The cobbler looked at the shoes he had in his hand. They were old fash- ioned ladies' walking shoes with a white kid top trimmed in lace. The heels needed building up. He won- dered who would be wearing a pair of shoes like this in this age. When the shoes were repaired he watched for the person who would call for them. A young girl turned out to be the owner. When the cobbler asked her why she was having them re- paired she said that they were to be the something old in her wedding. It was a custom that had been ob- served since her great-grandmothers time. The next pair of shoes he became interested in was a pair of boots. They were covered with mud and needed polishing and soles. When they were ready he noticed that they were both for the left foot. As it turned out the man had only the left leg and he worked as a surveyor. On his way home the cobbler no- ticed the shoes of the people he saw on the street. The minister's shoes were a little worn at the toe probably from praying. A little boy's were scuffed all over from climbing the cement wall in his school. A woman's pumps, black fthey had once been brownl were the next. She was poor and had to dye them instead of buying lss-A.s.... - . o,,,7.? new ones. Two soldiers in their G.I. boots passed stepping briskly with rhythm. He looked at the shoes of them all. No one could understand why he was a cobbler. It seemed ironical that he should mend shoes because he had no legs. -Diane Halsey-Sophomore A CONVERSATION WITH A MINUTE Tiny, fleeting minute, Scarcely worth this rhyme, Slipping on so swiftly, Through the hands of time, First future, then present, Very soon you're past, Such a flashy fellow, Can nothing make you last? The minute flies by quickly, But much to my surprize, The tick-talk which it gives me, Is extremely wise: Spend my seconds carefully, Later you will find, Some usefulness remains, Though I am far behind. ' -Betts Hansen-Sophomore THE GREAT BLACK OGRE Hopes undone, Words unsaid, Rhymes unwritten, Books unread, Work to finishw Yes, but when? Growing, growing heaps of things, Heaps of things that might have been. And then is born a horrid, crawling thing, That lurking, smirking, skulking black imp, Time. That loathsome murderer of all things good, That watching, waiting, hungry devil, Time.

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