Chelmsford High School - Yearbook (Chelmsford, MA)

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CHELMSEORD HIGH SCHOOL ADVICE To seek and to find Is what you should do, And make up your mind To secure the thing too. It takes study and work, It takes patience and time, It's a task you can't shirk Till you say, It is mine. Don't forget in sheer zest For your treasure so new To say to the rest Come, you have some too! SHIRLEY CROWELL '47 AREN'T YOU GLAD YOU'RE YOU? Did you ever wish that you might be A dog, a bird, or a tiny bee, To live in a kennel, a nest, or a hive, Getting just barely enough to survive? You think a dog is a lucky creature, To have only nature as his teacher? just think of Rusty, who roams the street, Alone and homeless, old bones his treat. A poor little bird, so you may think, Gets more than her fill to eat and drink, But she works like a beaver to feed her young, And after work, her songs are sung. Through the gardens and fields the tiny bees hover, Searching for sweets in blossoms and clover, They have a lifetime job, you see, Making honey for you and me. Do you still think it fun to be one of these, And not have to learn your A B C's? Well, consider the facts from near and far, And know you're lucky to be just as you are. SHIRLEY HARVEY '47 SCHOOL Would you trade your school for a stack of gold? Would you give up the fun and the jokes you've told? Would you miss the glimpse you've been led to see Of the man or woman you ought to be? Would you go through life with a dim out' look, Forgetting your friends, the kids with the books? Would all the wealth in the world repay For what you have gained in the school of today? MARGARET KYDD '47 BABY SITTING Every time I care for children I have a lot of fun. Even though there are only three, I'm always on the run. First I give young Joe a drink, Then run to quiet Gail, And then the baby's bottle warm Before she starts to wail. At last when they are all in bed, And I've settled down with a book, Then I hear noises in their room And decide I had better look. just as I thought. joe's up again! Oh, joe! get back to bed. And please don't wake the baby up Until she must be fed. I really love this kind of work Though it sometimes wears me down And mother needs someone on hand So she can go to town. THELMA CATON '47

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1947 YEAR Boolc REVELATION My pencil walks a mile a day Aftraveling up and down, It runs along a paper road And through a paper town. It leaves a trail where 'ere it goes Where you may follow me And learn my very inmost thoughts And personality. Evelyn Flavell '47 THE WILDERNESS TRAPPER I know an old trapper, so lean and hard, Who lives in the forest on beans and lard. He works like a beaver, and small is his pay As he follows his trapline day after day. Along high ridges where snows are deep, Down through the valleys where little brooks seep, His traps are all set for marten and lynx, Those little furred creatures of wooded pine brinks. The Indianfdevil, so ruthless and strong, Follows his traps and does him great wrong. It destroys his fine furs, all valued so high, It never gets caught, and refuses to die. Yet in spite of these troubles, no man can say The wilderness trapper is never seen gay. For he loves the dark forests, tundras, and streams, And he lives every day in his boyhood dreams. Horus WILKINS, JR. '47 SKIING One bright and sunny morning I thought that I would try To learn a little skiing, Enough to get me by. I started out so bravely, As happy as could be- I did not know the troubles Which were in store for me! My skis were brightly polished And as shining as the sung They were a Christmas present From an aunt in Washington. I found a hill quite gentle And not too very high, But just right for a beginner, So I thought that I would try. I put my skis on swiftly And I started down the hill. It never once occurred to me That I might take a spill! The hill which looked so gentle Wasn't really gentle at all, And halfway to the bottom Appeared a large stonewall. My skis they would not mind me, They wouldn't even stop, My poles were little better, So I left them with a drop. I missed the ball completely, Though how you couldn't guess, But the skis which wouldn't mind me Saved me from that stony mess. They threw me to the ground, you see, Before that horrid wall, And I wasn't even hurt a bit From that pridefshattering fall. I picked myself up slowly And vowed that never again Would I risk my neck at skiing, But stay safely in my den. MAUREEN DANE '47 A DREAM In my dreams I always see A car both black and long, With silver fenders, white wall tires, As sweet as any song. A car with looks and lots of speed, With all the latest frills, ' With engine great and powerful To climb the highest hills. But when I waken from my trance, I always look around To see if this dream car of mine Is really on the ground. But I find only empty space Where my new car should be And wish I were asleep again To dream of it, you see! Gnoaca MERRILI. '47

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