Central High School - Almanac Yearbook (Toledo, OH)

Page 177 text:

Hon'ring Egypt's mummied dead, We see and hist'ry gives Two smaller structures built, 'tis said By Cheops' relatives. From Saccara to Gashur came The echoed words of Cheops' fame. No work that mortal ever did, Could equal this, his pyramid. Embalmers then from Giseh came And Cheops chose a favorite kind Of spice and cloth in which he'd like His royal form entwined. In life he lived unknown to fame, But death would give the world his name. None knew his works, nor aught he did, Save plan his famous pyramid. Away from gaze of mortal eyes, And foreign kings' brigands, Who'd use his bones to fertilize Their royal farming lands. ln fancy thus he saw himself, Like concerve, spiced and on a shelf, Lest Gheops' bones should mould and rot, More quickly than his name 's forgot. Be quick with stone, with sand and lime My health has failed me, Cheops said And would ye not have done in time A grave for royal dead? His tomb unfinished, Oheops died. QA later king now rests insidej His one reward at death to show, A sepulchre in embryo.

Page 176 text:

The Story of Cheops. R. M. BRDXTKIESHOFF. LD OHEOPS started out to build Some monstrous pyramids. I-le advertised throughout the land For men, and plans and bidsg RHP iq' i 5 f , ,f ' - . K ' K. x s, t ix Then in his will ltwas Hnally read, The Words which stipulating said:- My dead remains shall ye intur In this, your Pha1'o's sepulchre.

Page 178 text:

A Camp j'Reverie. BY THE LATE MARCUS C. BATTELE. HE Inoonbearns sifting softly down Through the leafy boughs of the old oak trees Picture each twig and Waving leaf On the ground in a mellow frieze. The river is rippling just below, Murmuring peacefully in the night, Stealing between its grassy banks, Like a slender ribbon of white. Our little tent in the clearing stands, Flanked by the wood on either sideg Our light canoes lie on the shore, Half afloat on the iiowing tide. The flickering light of the soft camp Ere Throws a iitful glare on the scene aroundg Breaking the wierd, fantastic shades Of the trees upon the ground. At length my comrade slowly speaks, Breaking the spell to my sorrow, My week is up to-night, Old Chap, And you must wash dishes to-morrow.