Central YMCA High School - Centralite Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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.Ill vfzir- vhke -, 'W A - a s 'me Q In ily GL H 5 QQ as Literary THE CLOCK ON THE MANTEL The sun was at its zenith and the heat was terrific. A dry south wind was blowing, making the heat more intense and scattering dust indiscriminately in all directions. The sun and wind had both, it appeared, picked upon the only object ani- mated with life, for coming down the street was on old man. The sun beat down upon him and the wind blew clouds of dust in his path. This man was old, and he had lived long. The weather, what was that to him? His head was bowed and his whole body bent. He walked along tim- orously, each step a pain, a terrible exertion. He dragged his feet with a curious rythm, exactly opposite to the motion of his body. He wore what once resembled a hat and his clothes showed long usage. He had a lean face with heavy jaws, close, thin-set lips and a rounded chin. His eyes caused one to wonder, for they were large and luminous. A young man's eyes in an old, set, and hard face. Could it be possible that the mind remained as active as those eyes? -Did the eyes reflect the youthfulness of a constantly roaming mind? He supported his big bent frame upon a cane of exquisite workmanship. There was a perceptible increase in his dragging strides as he approached a dilapidated house. It was situated on a little knoll surrounded by space for miles around. It was a fine old house, built solid and square, to stand off that terrific pace-maker, Time. He now stood squarely in front of the door and as if his presence without had been felt within, a maid came forth and gave him her hand for more support. They entered his room at the farthest end of the building, and there in front of his hearth, where a small fire was burning to keep him warm, she placed him in his accustomed seat, directly in front of it and left him to himself. The room which he occupied was devoid of any home touches. The only other object that shared his room was the mantel clock. The clock's face remained the same, in contrast to that of its master. The longer he worked the less he was troubledg but those around him wearied of his long years of pounding out the time. For did he not have the proofs? Did he not see his master grow old? Did he not see the family reared and broken? Ah! that life should contain so much and mean so little! Life! at the mere thought of that word, the figure in the chair stirred. His mouth opened, his hands moved and his eyes flashed his thoughts. Life, he said, What is it? A thing to be gotten and then a thing to be thrown away. Suddenly Life stood before him and said, What hast thou against Life? Hast thou not now enjoyed life for almost a century? Enjoyed life! A fine opinion you have of yourself! Enjoyed life, hal Look at me. Do you see in me any resemblance to a babe in his cradle? From childhood to manhood l have struggled. l struggled as a babe in the cradle to become a boy, and no sooner a boy, than to be a man, and here I am a man, an old man, and what is there before me? Another struggle, perhaps, for who knows what death may bring? You say you have struggled, said Life. That in a great measure is true, but do you know of any achievements of great worth that were obtained fPage 731 - -'-' - - '- '-Mm7Erirnmmi-hrV-I--1.3.3-J-T.u.lw-ml-I' uifrwvmsvm' .14-',-1.-1-'14--1:14'- 4 ...,.,11AA

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in T'v YD prM....,...5 11 Q .. . .. !E'L 'l. Literary uiuiniiu' T ' 3131542 Time lH3C.EI1'JilII'Ckllf1llCB va THE SPIRIT OF CENTRAL Theres room at the top for the worker Who is earnest and noble and trueg There's no room at all for the shirker, Who quails at the struggles in view. The winner is he with a vision Of the crest of the mountain serene: Who strives to reach Fields Elysian, 'Tho quagmires of trials intervene. 'Tho obstacles great and stupendous His spirit may daunt for a time, With a heart that is strong and courageous, He o'ercomes them in combat sublime. Then hail to the Spirit of Central, To the workers in l..earning's domain! Your hardships are but incidental, And help you your mountain to gain. T. H. NIELSEN. lpage 721 7n2MnifiF1iv-Twin-Tu'nim1'uirW-5:5141Gmmiiiw-mEI'uiiFvliuE16vWinWuiinT.-71wihnviuifiiiinh-TnahWmu. -JnFvImTnIuWnbTRI-.ZI ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' -' ' ' ' ' ' Hmfuuw' .. .A A i... .4 It Y.--I-AIA., .. .,. .Q.,.,.AAgb. .4 .1. I I I I I I I I I I EI I ..:..-..............,..,- . .- -v...-.-. ..... .............-.- gl .I I! II I I 'E gi Is Ii is

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g g luuvl Q93 wi! Q ff: Literary A. i l It its r '. . fa il, v r l 0 if P i l r n r I r L r I E 1 I s 6 1 n P 5. I P . V ,. 'a E F. V K E r r A 1 V r V v v LP '. . without a struggle? How can things be accomplished if there are no obstacles to surmount, to conquer? You struggled as a babe to become what you have now grown to be, and in that struggle did you not vanquish your boy- hood and in turn your manhood? Are you not now a man? ls that not the finest struggle? Would you like to have gone through life without an effort? just think whether the world would progress if there were no such struggles, no strifes. At your query of 'what is there before me?' l am astonished. Why do you ask what there is before you? Why not look backward? Did you not see your children grown to manhood and womanhood? How many enjoy that privilege? Should not your outlook on life be a little more calm, a little more serene? You have had all there is to offer. A family, long life and wisdom. lf you did not achieve more, if you did not bring about a greater measure of success, whom have you to blame? I repeat that you have had everything there is to offer. For every day of honest effort you have received an equally honest return. Why ask 'What is there before me?' A shock went through the old man's frame, his face became distorted and he tried to rise, but, the effort being in vain, he sank back with a weak hoarse whisper and replied, Yes, oh! yes, honest work, honest return, fine. A privilege to exist, a privilege to struggle and then die. Bah! Go away, take yourself from me. I am tired-tired of myself and tired of your foolish philosophy. Go away l say-go! leave me forever. At this juncture a low rumble was heard and a slow but steady dribble of rain beat down upon the earth. It was dark, so dark that one seemed to feel the closeness of the clouds over him, and Life turning to go, said, Be- ware, old man, in darkness you came into this world and in darkness l have Edecided you must leave it. l depart forever. The clock on the mantel, ticking away in his accustomed place, saw that the old figure in the chair did not move. He gaped, he could not hide his anxiety. Could it be true? His face showed his emotion, his hands stopped their perpetual movement, and with a sudden stop, a sudden realization that all was over, he crashed to the Hoor, for Life had withdrawn from him too. HARRY BRODI. SWEET ALICE Sweet Alice you have captured me With pure and lovely eyes, So pure that they can only see The good that in me lies. To ope your eyes would be a sin, To close them be a lie: So my salvation lies but in Forcing my sins to die. I'll kill them with my love for you, A weapon superfineg Each sin shall die by love so true And then you shall be mine. WILLARD G. MURBACH. lPage 741 ---'-'- - ' mihE1KiJnRfinTm:ium-uIi.T..'3 v4ii i1-5i1Wui.vFnuuu1vm1In rC.M-95.76445-,lH1ivT '771TT. ' . . .v . muummm-wmuumimmminminu vim-vm...-...W - , -.. ,. 1,1 A-gggw. - L+1'- f'd-fw--- - ' .-L '..i1.s:.:1