Central Commercial High School - Hour Glass Yearbook (New York, NY)

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Tice bead Wino Healer ie You prince, of the fat purse, or proud heart, You beggar, of the endless tears, You indiilerent one, of the anxious inertia! Do you remember Abe Lincoln? Abe Lincoln, that vast and brooding man, vvith the great and terrible loneliness. Having known great things, it is not Lincolnls lot, Even in eternity, to be content with silence. Snarl at him: Let the dead stay buried and forgotten. VVe must heed the living. But he is of the dead . . . never forgotten, ' An infinite, brooding, lonely conscience. And hid thunder still resounds from the hollows of the sky. Little men, tell him of your achieving hours. Hungry men, tell him of the embattled bickering for a scrap of bread. Great men, tell him of your scramble for a scrap of land, Of the parades, the helpless fury, the vain might, The measured malice, the open greed, the festering Wrong. 'AWITH MALICE TOWARDS NONE, WITH CHARITY FOR ALL, WITH FIRMNESS IN THE RIGHT AS GOD GIVES US THE RIGHT .... Ask them, Mr. Lincoln, How stands the Union, neighbors? Can you say, l'Four square, rock bottomed, one and indivisible? NO-NO-NO! 18

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going to shoot down so many planes, didn't even get one. The Negro fellow to the far side of me shot down four planes and the Chinese guy on the other side shot down three and two ran for home. That burned me up and the fellows kidded me because I said I was going to shoot down so many planes. That burned me up more. I sulked, and one of the Negro guys tried to talk to me but I pushed him away. Yes, I pushed him away, I pushed a friend away. The laps weren't so easy to get rid of. They came back at dawn. This time they got close enough to lay some of their eggs. One fell near my gun and I felt myself flying into the air, then came the hard impact of the water, and all went black. I was sub-conscious as I lay in bed and heard the phar- maeist's mate telling the doctor what had happened to me. It seems that after I had fallen into the water the Negro I had pushed away had jumped over- board and rescued me. The doctor said he didn't think I'd live for I was pretty much burned from the explosion, with bones broken from the impact with the water. The thought rushed in my mind . . . I was going to die. I couldn't let that happen, I wanted to thank the guy for rescuing me. A funny feeling came over me and pain shot through my body. I was going to die! I wanted to shout out, God, don't make me die now. lust let me live long enough to thank that Negro fellow! Another pain shot through me and grabbed at my heart. I gasped and choked and my life was over on earth. l'm dead now and I guess I sound pretty bitter to you. VVcll, I am. I feel I have been given a raw deal. XVhen I lay dying I saw what I should have done and God took me away before I could square myself with at least one guy. My only wish now is that the guys who discriminate unwisely will wake up before it's too late. I feel better now that I have told you my story. Maybe now my soul can rest. SYDELL BERCIXIAN 14 Strange Sv:-t of Prayer Well, God, here we are. You up there, I down here, with a burning enthusiasm for all believers in brotherly love and the kinship of all humanity. I Oh, God, how nice it would be if all men were brothers and all could be free to worship as they pleased. VVith the war over and the boys all done with the lighting, must they come home to fight among themselves? VVas this really meant to be? Tomorrow, and more tomorrows, I'll still want freedom for my children and my children's children. If I must struggle alone my dreams will never become realities. Well, no hard feelings, I'll go wherever you say, and do whatever you want me to, for You know what's best for me, but Dear God, maybe if You could get the people to understand the meaning of All for one, and one for all, regardless of their beliefs and the color of their skin, maybe then we'd achieve a better world. You see, God, that's the sort of world all men will want to live in. YVONNE SHELBY 17

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IT IS FOR US THE LIVINC, RATHER, TO BE DEDICATED TO THE UNFINISHED WORK WHICH THEY WHO FOUCHT HAVE THUS FAR SO NOBLY ADVANCED .... Ask them, Mr. Lincoln: Are you forging another portent for a world in blood soaked agony? Can you say, K'Not we, we are the architects of a brave new world. THAT FROM THESE HONORED DEAD NVE TAKE IN- CREASED DEVOTION TO THAT CAUSE FOR VVHICH THEY CAVE . . . THE LAST FULL MEASURE OF DEVO- TIONV' You prince, can all your gold buy one easy moment today? You beggar, what are your wares beside yesterday's tears? You, indillerent one, does your sheath of apathy dress you for tomorrow? Search all the castles of your mind, retrack your fervored paces, And ind the empty echoes of promises you never meant to keep. You are men who seek a glittering portion treading over the yawning grave. THAT WE HERE HIGHLY RESOLVE THAT THESE DEAD SHALL NOT HAVE DIED IN VAIN .... l But rest easy, Mr. Lincoln, in your vast and brooding loneliness. The measured malice, the open greed, the festering wrong, will not prevail against the unburied dead. The earth abides forever, and with the earth, the people. Your people, Mr. Lincoln, the ones you loved and understood, The struggling, dumb, fumbling people, who alone can light the huge hurry- ing crowd with one smile, Who touch tenderly the earth's goodness and make it Hourish, Who, unmasked, offer their bodies to the tyrant's steel, Who have bled and died and have been lost, And who will bleed and die and will be found again! For their destiny is greater and more enduring than the words or the folly of all proud men. They are the imperishable repository of greatness and humility, Of genius, variety, strength, hope, promise, Of dreams, born, dead, and fulfilled, Of dreams, unborn, alive, and yet to be fulilled. Dreams and people are immortal, They go on forever. Something the empty seekers and searchers do not know. Rest easy, Mr. Lincoln .... OF THE PEOPLE, BY THE PEOPLE, FOR THE PEOPLE, SHALL NOT PERISH FROM THE EARTH BY CEORGENA WAHNON 19