Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR The Soldier The battle won, And homage done, The soldier departed from strife. He was not known By folks at home, For the war had changed his life. His face was scarred, His features marred, One arm had been shot away. And the tales he told Were of men so bold Who had fought in many a fray. He told of a trip On a convoy ship Over the sea to France. He was sent to a camp Where he heard the tramp Of feet, as they advanced. Then came the fight On a terrible night When his face had been mangled and torn. He had lain on the ground Where he had been found By his men on the following morn. Then came the day When he went away— Away to the land of the free. Away from the strife Of a warrior’s life To his home across the sea. Joseph Hughes, June ’32. My Autumn The Autumn is the time for me To hunt the rabbit in the lea. With dog and gun I have my fun Until the sun sinks red. And then toward home I turn my head With spirits fine and high, For in my sack four bunnies lie All stiff and cold, Still wet from faithful Buster’s hold. And when among the orange leaves The foxy partridge quickly flees, I like to watch old Buster poise As if to say, Get ready, boys.” And when yon partridge makes his dash The woods resound the fatal crash, And down to leafy ground he falls No more to see his forest halls, No more to see the purple sky, No more with mates of brown to fly. William Mende, June ’30. Twelve

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THE REFLECTOR Rainy Day Lovers OR many days the sun had shone brightly; there was not a cloud in T the sky, and the earth was bathed in beauty. In her mistress’ wardrobe a pretty green umbrella waited patiently for the sound of rain-drops against the window-pane. She was a pretty thing of sea-green silk, bordered with a stripe of bright carmine. Her handle was a cameo in ivory, and a dainty tassel of deeper green hung jauntily at one side. Early one morning she listened carefully, and to her joy she heard the pitter-patter of rain-drops against the window-pane. Her mistress lifted her gently from her resting place and slipped the loop quickly over her arm. The pretty green umbrella felt a thrill through her whole frame, for was she not going to the office to see once again her lover? After a journey to the big city she arrived at her destination, and her heart leaped for joy as she was slipped into the arms of her lover—the stately, black, finely japanned umbrella holder. He was made of sturdy stuff, strong and fine. On either side was a ring of gold lacquer grasped in the mouths of lions. Well,” said he, I thought you would never, never come. I had al- most decided it would never rain again.” Yes,” whispered she, I was beginning to think I would never see you again. The wind blew so hard coming down the avenue I was afraid my tender frame would not hold out, but here I am, safe and sound. Tell me, what has happened since last it rained and we were together.” Well,” said he, It was very lonely without you. The office-boy in- sisted on filling me with waste-paper, the salesmen almost choked me with cigar-butts, even chewing-gum found its way into my very vitals. This morning, however, I was thoroughly cleaned, and although it is rather dark in this corner, I could catch the sound of rain beating on the roof. And then I had some hope of seeing you again. Hurrah for the rain!” And so, when it does rain, let us remember that the little green silk umbrella and the black umbrella stand are very happy. Alice Borneman, Feb. ’32. The Wizard of Menlow And there in the dark—in the gloom of night— He raised his hand—and his hand held LIGHT. And old men saw through a haze of years, And children laughed and forgot their fears. And knowledge gleamed where voids had been, And wisdom banished the curse of sin. And peace came where his feet had trod— For GOD is LIGHT—and LIGHT is GOD. Vernon Grounds, Feb. ’32. Eleven

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THE REFLECTOR Pals UC7O ELL, will you look at Bobby Lowell! Of all messy outfits i 0 J t° wear to a place like this! It’s about time that girl woke up to herself. I don’t think she cares a bit about her looks.” Bobby Lowell strode across the lawn, a sharp contrast to the other girls. A hard round of golf had certainly not improved her appearance. A tiny, boyish figure, black hair that just would curl around a pert, little face, and two merry blue eyes which just now were smiling at the world. Cute—yes—but her clothes! They were the despair of every lover of feminine frills. Mannish right from the sweater to stout oxfords, for if there were any two things Bobby hated they were curly hair and frilly dresses. Gee, it’s hot!” she ejaculated. Right!” said a voice behind her, and she swung around to see Tommy Searles, accompanied by a tall, blond young man in white flannels. Oh, hello, Tommy,” she said briskly. Want you to meet a friend of mine, Barry Wells,” said Tommy. This is Bobby Lowell, best golfer in the club.” Bobby stretched forth a grimy hand to clasp Barry’s brown one. Have a good game?” he asked in a pleasant voice. Swell,” and Bobby turned around to gulp down a tumbler of ginger ale. So-long,” banging down the glass; see you later,” and she made off for a snappy little roadster parked near the road, tossed her clubs into the seat, and drove off in a whirl of dust. Glo, Patty, Alice and Dotty had watched Bobby when she met Tommy and Barry. Goodness,” said Glo, you’d think she didn’t know who Barry Wells was, the way she ignored him.” Barry Wells, popular novelist, was the hit of the season. Most likely she doesn’t,” smiled Pat. She never read a novel in her life. She reads wild-west stories and jungle tales. Too odd for words!” What man could like her, I don’t know,” chimed in Dotty. There’s nothing girlish about her. She’s a good sport, but they say she hates girls. She never says much more than Hello” to any one of us, and she hasn’t one real girl friend.” I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her in anything dressy. She always wears sport clothes, and they look as though they’d been thrown on in about two minutes.” I wonder how she’d look in an evening dress,” mused Pat. I’ll bet she strides along as though she were in knickers! And high heels! I’ll bet she’s a scream.” Let’s try to get her to come to my house Saturday, when the crowd comes down. It’s to be semi-formal, you know. If we can get her to come, we’ll have the best laugh of our lives.” This from Dotty. Thirteen