Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

Page 23 text:

Che Alumni Pane Bird Found Dead on a Vacant Lot on Tears To a the City Line ı Friedman, 728 Little birdie. No more wordy. Lifeless. helpless. in my hand. | do wonder. | hrough what blunder Of the fates you fell to land. Bird once cheery, Were you weary As you flew through those blue skies, Was it just loss Of your wee force [hat has closed your lurid eyes? Strange you were found On the harsh ground. On the boundary of two towns, Like some bruin, Cage were you in— Victim of man's ill-bred frowns? Could it be true, [hat as you flew Happy, carefree, through the air. Hunger and thirst, Acted for worst Plunged you to the earth so bare? ‘The atmosphere You loved so dear Nevermore will greet your song, No more shall I Glancing to sky, Hope to see you fly along. A brave duel. With life cruel No.v has sadly come to end. Seldom in peace Does our life cease— All too soon with earth we blend. 15 By Helen E. J itello Ihe sound of summer rain Upon my window pane, Is like the sound of tears— Hopeless tears. W hen raindrops softly fall. Sadly I recall! A tearful face іп pain— Hopeless pain. Ала even as I write, Faintly in the night. І hear the sound of tcars— Hopeless tears. Content By Rose Lieber More than the thousand voices of the sea, I love the silent grandeur of the sky, Stretching far out, in its eternity. More than the dipping whiteness of the gul!. I love the steady flying of the sky, Dark-coated land bird, and the hull Of a distant ship means far less to me Than spires, and great white domes, imprinted high Against a blue of neither day nor night, When stars have just begun to give their light. The fresh, cool breezes, from this blossoming tree Bring perfume which no wave-born tang Does equal; and the noises of the sea, Sirens’ shrieks, and the muffled, hollow clang Of the swinging buoy—how can they compare With these sweet warbling voices in the air, And the swaying clamor in the old church tower. As the molten bells proclaim some fateful hour. Just as a deep unrest comes from the sea. So do these skies reach down and comfort me.

Page 25 text:

Chr Morta Corner Invocation of a Music Teacher Bv Helen Klepackv Blue purple, neath the summer! sky, [he laughing Po swept by Ihe town of violins. Cremona, midst the popiars grew, Swarthed in their silvery mist, With roofs of gay and sombre hue, By Italy's sunlight kissed. [was here Amati worked to find lhe perfect violin. [was here Albani joy resigned То toil and seek with him. Ihe glistening varnish о ег your lines, Is never Cremonese, Yet clearer than Italia’s wines. Brighter than golden fleece. A bit of ebony, Tyrolean pine, Compose my violin, Four strings without, a holy shrine, A soul, that rests within! Before I touch your quivering strings, Y our mood I cannot tell, But grief or joy. whate'er it brings. With in my heart must swell! You sing of when the Israelites played In bondage cruel and dire, You voice the sweetness that was made. By Egypt’s god-like lyre. Oh you, who can enthrall, entrance, Inspire my very heart, That I may teach, withal enhance A great and world-wide art! Class Song Your welcome doors were open wide, Abreeze your banner, Blue and White, And thus we came our time to bide With you and so to greet the light Of knowledge bright, care to deride, To learn to do our labors right. We came to see the way, decide, The paths in life we start tonight. Tonight our Alma Mater weeps, She tears, and tho she sees us go With mournful sorrow, still she sweeps Us out into the world to sow Her hardy seeds. Her harvest reaps Luxurious winy fruits that glow. Her yield a crowd of mem'ries heaps Of things that were not long ago. We say farewell, O White and Blue. With eyes bedimmed, with hearts full filied. Y our inspirations, they are true; We leave. resolved to castles build! It’s After 8 in the Morning Bv Esther N. Steinwurtzel It's after 8 in the morning. School is about to start, Pupils come trooping together. And at the door they part. Everyone has been seated, ‘Teacher is calling the roll, In runs a tardy student, Victim of time, poor soul! It's 3 o'clock the same day, “Ten more minutes to wait, Seated and lonely, the student Hopes he'll never be late!