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

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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!

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Excelsior! Bv Веп-Аті Kaplan orld 15 in my palm When my arms sweep oul in one wide gest the sun doth of light the morn swing up тапа sweep that blue eternal dome oothes the weary eye; he white fantastic clouds ases flat | soar before the sea-smelling wind escend to yon misty horizon low but steady undulation; When the velvet hills roll out before me In soft discreet submission; When Nature bashfully discloses all her secret treas- ures lo my searching ardent view; When the rich black earth breaks up et the green sprouting sprig spring up to light; When my heart beats hard and strong With pent-up yearnings claiming for prompt outlet; When black blood of pulsing, throbbing life Shoots thru my palpitating veins; When my eye consumes the landscape round Which circles the All | he world is in my pa!m. face І walk strides. the My fear is naught My For complaint 15 none does not the sun smilc For my sole warmth? Does not the humbie moon shine [o make my dark nights bright? Do not the waters kiss my every limb In bath? Do not the distant stars glow [o show my steady way? Are not the rippling purple clouds my [o make and unmake as I choose? Tel! me now Am I not right? And is not the whole wide world Firmly grasped within my palm? areal and steady and gleam fantasies In one burning, eager quest; In they saunter, hand in hand, Gabbing fast as ever they can;— But not of school work,—don't be silly, Jut of boys like Tom and Billy. Then their seats they occupy, Open text-books with a sigh; l'eacher calls the class to order, All talking stops, if not there's moder. says the teacher, Someone yells, “I bet I'll beat cha!” lI hey write the question with their leads, Ready, question,” Dut some forget to use their heads. Exchange your papers, orders he, | hen. “Read the paper of Marie. History Class Ву Marie Lepore Someone stands and starts to read: Alas—she stops as though in need. She bends and asks just what is written, But try and try, she feels like quittin', Then at last she takes her seat, Very hurt in her conceit. The work continues, to their dismay; Each one is scared; but it does not pay “Го look so 'spicious, unprepared. For by the bell one might be spared. [he bell does ring to their great joy. And then they talk to every boy. [hey make a rush right to the door. And then are up on every floor. 17