Central High School - Brecky Yearbook (Washington, DC)

Page 21 text:

IN MEMORIAM Hear you the sighing of the midnight wind, The sorrowed lapping of the restless deep? Listen, for they mourn too: this night a planet, The flickering pole star, beacon of the sea, Has been extinguished. Long, long it has burned And seemed to show the way from shore to shore Unfailing, constant as the air: eternal. No storms dislodged, no massed clouds brushed it down And after every gale, still there it shone, Still cheerfully it twinkled with a light That gave the weary courage to go on. Now that the course was pointed out again. Then came tonight. Low in the north it hung Above the foam-capped swell of the evening breeze, Silent, brilliant. Suddenly it burst Into all the accumulated splendor Of its years, and in a flaming streak It dropped below the rampart of the north, Leaving an aching gap among the stars, Whence it has slipped to darkness and to peace. RAY MILLER. V

Page 20 text:

ALVIN W. MILLER An Appreciation in Behalf of the Student Body IV

Page 22 text:

IN MEMORIAM ' Close on the realization that we have lost our principal comes remembrance of him as we have seen him day in and day out at Central, a genial man with a twinkle of recognition for many, a ready friendliness for all. We took him for granted. He was part of every chapel, subject often to good-natured jest in its program. We frequently passed him in the corridors or saw him mingling with the students in the lunchroom, and few of us have had cause for disconifiture even when facing him across the great desk in his glassed-in sanctuary. Our activities, our interests, our welfare were Mr. Miller's. In his busy days he found time to visit our classrooms, to attend games more faithfully than we did, and to make plans for our enjoyment as well as our discipline. He was patient, forgiving, and mild in reproof 5 but, more than for these gentle qualities, we young people loved him for his never-failing, sympathetic sense of humor. There is something sweet in sorrow at the passing of a man of whom we have only pleasant thoughts. ANNE VVOODVVARD IQING VI