Central High School - Almanac Yearbook (Toledo, OH)

Page 159 text:

Said the maid, My good man, what you say is quite true You are worthy of help-here's a drachma for you. Now pray, while I stand here and wait for the car, Sing the typical tune of Zanzibar, Or whatever it is that you sing so well. So he opened his mouth with an awful yell And began his Immortal Song. Now, the crowd got thin, and the hour late, And his legs got cramped as alone he sate And sang his Immortal Song. So he shouldered the lyre and the rickety chair, And he called the dog with the curly hair. He groaned as he lifted his money box And exclaimed, By Zeus, here's a load for an ox! A pretty big lift for a man that is old. Now, confound them, why don't they pay me in gold For my grand, Immortal Song? Then he slopped along through the drizzling rain Till he came to his humble hut again. He wondered, as he lay alone, From whence his morning meal would comeg And he thought, Though my song shall immortal be, It can live on air-not so with me- I'm not an immortal song. WK

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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.

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Platonic Friendship vs. Love. BY ISABELLE WHEELER, ,00. S Miss Wilson at home, Kate? No ma'am, she has just gone to a neighbor's, but I think she will be back soon. Won't you come in and wait for her? replied Miss WilcoX's maid. Yes, I think I will. Come, Beatrice, Margaret won't be long. We'll go up into the study. The speaker, Amy Rodgers, entered the house as if she was quite at home. She was apretty girl, a decided blonde. She and her friend Beatrice Lawton had just returned from doing some errands, and as the day was exceptionally warm, they had stopped at their friend's house to rest. How Margaret Wilson can ever sit in this pretty room and write such dry things on Woman's Suffrage is more than I can see, said Amy as she sat down at Margaret's desk. She has everything she wants, even a pretty face. Why doesn't she stop this nonsense and marry Eugene Baldwin? Don't worry, Amy, she will before long. I think they're engaged now, replied her friend. You know platonic friendship is such a farce. It always turns into love. Not always girls, Eugene and I are going to be the exception. Amy and Beatrice looked at each other in astonish- ment. They were glad, however, that Margaret came in before they had said any more.