Central High School - Almanac Yearbook (Toledo, OH)

Page 157 text:

lust Some Rhymes, BY M. E. D. Whence. IS Q ' that sighs are waited F the gardens of the gods, Where grow the reddest roses In the land beyond the clouds, Their perfumes downward tending Are borne on seraph's wing And bear to lips of lovers The gifts the gods would sing. y EA eart, without you even life I Is rk, the day Most drearg since so Much of itself, its light, no longer linger near The spring, the birds, the trees, the flowers, The sun's warm beams? All these await but you, Dear Heart, you and And i - the dreams. Pourgnoi? UST cause 1 Tha s all there is to say, And things will ever take this turn When there's no other way. N a ng west wind a seed was borne In quiet bower, And there in the strange cold soil it lay Bereft by its truant lover. The sun-god radiant in wreaths of light, Shed beauty and warmth on the seed, When lo ! from the soil sprang a violet fair, The shy, blue-eyed maid of the mead.

Page 156 text:

.wa-'A ' 1' 'Af ' r 1 xl' rs 1 l ,-.i-1:11a-4 4 gk 1.2. : Qu. - I 3 AJ ...Q ,f , is . JW: ,r zlf. L 3. ' e 1.5.2 -is , . H ' lx 0 X , 1 EQQ . , I ff' 1 B.,-,--1...eH.u rgx Qu 1 1 i p i......,...,Q...,..Q And S for our country Will stand, The home of the valiant and freeg U is the use We can be to our land Whose flag goes far over the sea. Is for Vance Whose vincictive voice We hear, While We see his fore-finger of scorn. In Report at 3:30, he seems to rejoice And laughs at excuses and faces forlorn. The Whisper forbidden by law, But in Which We oft-times indulge, We Wish to tell someone of something We saw Or perhaps some great secret divulge. Is the quantity We are to find. X is for excellent Which We are when it's found. 4' Xi' for exam. for which We must grind, And X is for Xmas when pleasures abound. For the youth from far and from near, Who come to the fountain of learning, Pushing onward and upward With never a fear, Finally laurels of victory earning. For the zero that really is nothing, But causes us Worry, a deal of it toog It were very much better to cease all vain fussing, And leave till the morrow what today We can't do.

Page 158 text:

The Blind Man's Bluff. LD HOMER sat in his rickety chair, And the Wind played tag with his unkempt hair, He pulled his clutors 'round his beggarly form If, perchance, with the holes he might keep himself warm, And he sang the Immortal Song. A The rain trickled down from his Grecian noseg His sandals leaked and cold were his toesg His gaping tunic his shins exposed. Now who would have seen him and ever supposed Him the Bard of the Immortal Song? Old Homer groaned, and he softly swore, And he rattled his little tin cup some more, And he sighed as he thought of a warm grate tire. He tuned the strings of his ancient lyre With accompaniment vile and a Voice that was dire He wailed, I am blind, but the man was a liar, And he sang his Immortal Song. Now, a spinster came by with a shopping bag, And he looked through his goggles and saw the hag. She slipped him a copper and turned to go. May the gods, said he, 'fon thee their blessings bestow, Fair youthful maid! U and she said, Good lan' How'd you know I am young, you poor old man, When you're blind ? Then he winked as he thought of a bluff: HI felt your sweet presence, and that was enough As I sang my Immortal Song.