Castle School - Drawbridge Yearbook (Tarrytown, NY)

Page 174 text:

-THE DRAWBRIDGE 'Nineteen Twen Sify! Ifif Pfyflzologyf What is this mystery, dark and deep These books in which we cannot peep ? The curious inquire. Some solemn Seniors answer low, For are they not the ones who know? Ssh! it's Psychologyll' I started out my Senior year, With lofty hopes, without a fear, l've changed my mind since then. For now my mental processes Are all mixed up with l's and lVle's, Alas! that's Psychology! l've read from Calkins, James and Stout, What is their nonsense all about? I've yet to understand. For affections and sensations Give me mildrhallucinations Oh! that Psychology! ,And the encephalon, or brain Hypnotism, mesmerism Percepts, and somnambulism Have added to my cares. Has nearly driven me insane, But, that's Psychology. The books l read I could not show, Their titles to the wall must go, l've often wondered why. I've taken notes, and found my fate Was to be just a trichromate Yes, that's Psychology. l've taken trips to every slum, Toinstitutes for Deaf and Dumb And there are many more. I dislike problems to be solved, But more the secrecy involved ln our Psychology. I cannot sleep l cannot think, A My cerebrum is on the blink, lVly nerves are much disturbed. And I have a grave suspicion That Pve reached this sad condition Ssh! through Psychology. Elizabeth W'ha!ey, in 1916 Drawbridge.

Page 173 text:

THE DRAWBRIQDGE N,,,e,ee,, TM, X I WCCP f01 YOU NIISS NIHSOU Said, Oh, Swansll' Miss Farwell said your wants I deeply Wmpathlzel Will soon be satisfied. With sobs and teais she turned away We must be trotting home again Once more to theoiize But neither one replied- Holding her pocket handkerchief And this was scarcely odd because Befoie her streaming eyes y They, both of them, had died if Note. In those days Tristan and IsoIde ' were real swans. Gifts to Nliss Nlason from an old friend, they returned her care and affection by sue- eumbing to the yfrst cold 'winter in this climate. - flnne fllfwood 0 4'N0w? I .dwsk Ton! Girls, if you pay strict attention and take full notes I am sure you will have no difficulty in understanding this: Now, waddever you do, don't get mixed il- lusions and pure illusions mixed. 'A mixed illusion is not pure, while the difference between them is Cplease don't mix thisj the pure is not mixed. If it was, as it sometimes is,-well, you'll get that un- der another heading. However, in the first-that is, not the second-the main difference lies in its be- ing mixed. Nbw, l don't want to mix it for you, but pure illusions can never be mixed, but a mixed one can partake of the pure. Athough they are both entirely different, I could sum up the unlikeness in these words fpsychologically speakingj: a mixed illusion may contain some element of the unmixed, or pure, but the latter is never mixed, except-well, l'll take that up under another head. Are you sure you have'nt the pure mixed?-From 1919 Draw- bridge.

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THE DRAWBRIDGE Z,,f,,Hn Twn The Irony Of1f--- A poet should be calm and white With eyes of unforgetful night And scraggy eyebrows drawing down Into a whimsical half-frown. l-le should most quaintly, rarely speak And slowly, though it need a week For him to tell his quiet news l'd wait enchanted, for the hues Of his rich words, all gold and brown Or white and light as thistle down Gr blue as autumn mist would be A feast delectable to me. His speech should be of pools and trees, And lights beyond and over these- The clear green gold that Hoods the sky VVhile smoky purple clouds plume high- Red daybreak on the cedar crest A VVhile dark the valleys toward the westg And starlight streaming down the hills Or of spring nights with singing rills That smell of earth and rain and grass- He'd speak of these and then he'd pass To homely ways of country men V YVho toil and sleep and toil again. VVho dream their dreams by blazing logs And stroke the ears of patient dogs. Oh poets should do thus and so, Only they never do, you know. Contributed by LM.f1.K.Mar1tad3 7