Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

Page 17 text:

The Pathos of Burns’ Life I he must pathetic life is that of the man who, while conscious af a message for the world, is so hedged about by limitations and hindered by a morally weak constitution, that the struggle with these consumes the time and strength that should be used in performing his mission. Such was Burns life. Mis youth was spent in a continual struggle against poverty which left no time for the preparation so essential for any successful work. C ontrast Burns life of toil and penury, in the most prosaic age of literature, when his native language was a dialect, with Milton's long, leisurely years of study at college and at Horton, when English literature was at its height and Shakespeare’s influence warm with life. s for leisure, a term we have come to think of as synonymous with a poet's life, only the little time Burns could snatch from the long work hours of the plough boy were his. Records of Burns, sitting at the table absorbed in a book with his supper before him untouched, show how much keener was his hunger for knowledge than bodily hunger even after toil. J o the ill-starred Bums was given the power of making man’s life more venerable, but that if wisely guiding his own was not given.” W ithin the same breast where the poetic spirit chafed because of the undelivered message, and where there was a sympathy so universal as to include the inanimate. there lived moral weaknesses, cravings of the appetite, and indecision. beckoning to destruction. The deciding vote in the crisis • »f a weak mans life is often cast by environment. Had there been one strong friend, in the heroic sense of the term, to whom Burns might have unbosomed himself all might have been different with him and how the affectionate heart of Burns cried out for such a friend! But in the real struggle of life a man must tight his way alone and in darkness. The poetic spirit of Burns with its attendant virtues was arrayed against the desire for worldly enjoyment of a finer or coarser grain and indecision. the battleground of these being the big. weak, sympathetic heart °f Burns. Environment, those revels at ale houses, his only resort, quarrels with superior officers, were all antagonistic to the higher side of Burns’ nature and at war with it. yet Burns in desperation and indecision kept on trying to reconcile the two with the inevitable result of regret, misery and loss of enjoyment in either. Just then a glimpse of aristocratic life—a glimpse too short for the glamour to fade and the cleared vision to sec aright—dissatisfied and made him rebel against Fate. Never did he learn to adapt himself to surroundings, and in his fever of disappointment, an outcast from the society he delighted in. with a sense of failure to deliver his message and rebellion against Fate, he sought relief in forgetfulness, in induced sleep until at last he passed “into that still country where the heaviest laden wayfarer at length lays down his load.” —Mittic M. Burge. ’t2. 15

Page 16 text:

know ami must leave the mystery for someone else to solve. But I do know that my fate will he the same. 1 must die. but 1 do not regret it. Death will he a relief, a sweet sleep and rest from-this awful life of mine. 1 shall (lie with a smile and go to my God like a man. What 1 have sown that have 1 reaped. I’ll die like 1 have lived and no one can say that I did not die game. I'll say farewell to the world through this, my last expression and as we used to sav I'll cash my checks and go home to the only home I ever had.” That was all. —Robert Goodall, ’12.

Page 18 text:

When all the World is Young 1 think,” said the Girl slowly, “that the only way to enjoy life is to do the things that explain just what you are.” “In that case, remarked the Practical Man, “you would do nothing but irresponsible, foolish things. “And you would read books on the subject of the ancient (.reeks, nothing more,” retorted she with spirit. The Practical Man was silent. Evidently he was considering some serious subject. The Girl clasped her hands about her knees and watched the pirouettmgs of -i gorgeous yellow butterfly through half-closed eyes. “1 wish 1 could knock down the wall of conventionality and wander about the world like a gypsy, and say and do what I like. Her voice roused the man. “You have already laid the laws of conventionality pretty low, he replied severely. “And as for wandering around the world like a gypsy, I sec little sense in that. You’d get dusty and hungry and ill. You should not talk so foolishly. For one of your age it is ridiculous The color mounted in the Girl’s cheeks and her eyes flashed angrily. “Though I’m not a baby, I’m young. I want an adventure! Do you hear? An adventure! When I’m old perhaps. I wont be 'ridiculous. Put at present I want to be. Anyway. I'll never get too old to feel young. 1 am not old. I won’t get old. and I want an adventure!” Her voice was rather temperish but the Practical Man was unmoved. “I believe. he said calmly, “that the best tiling one can do. is to read Put the (iirl was on her feet, protesting. “Don’t dare tell me to read one of those preachy old sermons with that if-you-are-a-good-child-the-worhl-will-be-good-to-yoti air. I shall scream. She stopped and looked down at the Practical Man with wistful eyes. Did you ever, ever do anything that you ought not to have done? she asked hopefully. slight fusli burned under the Practical Man’s brown skin. Yes. lie admitted. “I should never have c« nsented to act as your guardian. The (iirl shook her head hopelessly, took a few steps forward, then paused and looked over her shoulder. If. said she. “you had said something trulv reckless. I would have stayed and waited until you had finished reading. Put—. Now I am going off in search of an adventure, a happening spelled in capital letters. 1 hope.’ she added as a parting shot, that 1 shall meet up with a Knight. With a hallooing cry. she ran down the hill at al reckless pace. At the foot the Girl paused to gain her breath. “Now for the open road, cried she. An Adventure!” She picked a cluster of scarlet peace-pipes and tucked them over her ears, in the meshes of her dark hair. With fingers clumsy with excitement, she unknotted her crimson tie and wound it about her slender waist. “Now, I’m ready for the adventure.” The Girl walked through the woods, now on a half-worn path, now winding among the trees. She walked with a sense of waiting for something to happen; startled at each small woodsy sound, hoping the foolish. l6