Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR Twenty-two Gardens Wandering Through the countryside I chanced to catch a glimpse Of crimson, gold, blue, In stately but severe rows, With each flower in its place And none but dead ones cut, Stiff marble seats, A fountain which bravely sang As if to dispel the gloom. No children with their innocent ways romped there As in another garden I had seen many times, A garden which also held a riot of colors, But they were growing in lovely confusion. No Delphiniums” Or Myostis Palustria” Or Primula Vulgaris” blossomed there, But larkspur, Forget-me-nots, And primroses in all their quaint sweetness did, And seemed far sweeter than those with botanical names, For love blossomed with the other flowers in this garden. Margaret Leary, June ’30. The Wind Sharply, saucily slapping at me, Sweeping through the streets, Chasing helter-skelter, Dancing, spinning leaves, Miniature whirling dervishes, The wind, gay and mischievous, Darting round the corners, Twitching at my hat, Fingering my hair, Then, despairingly, longingly, leaving me, Played again with the leaves, Sought them in their corners Where they trembled at his breath, Tried to climb the wall. Gathering them up, He dashed down the street Slapping, like a naughty boy, At the hanging signs, Kicking up his heels at me, Throwing a farewell handful of dust. Evelyn Novack, June ’30.

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THE REFLECTOR The Hole Is Right HERE she sat, as if a reigning queen, upset by trials and tribula- tion. Her delicately carved features were drawn tight. Her eyes sparkled like the glowing embers of a log fire after it is out. Her dainty hands were transformed into tightly clenched fists. The rings on her fingers bit cruelly into her flesh. Great heavens !---if only some kind fairy would come to her asssistance. From her position, she looked down upon a masculine figure kneel- ing before her. Her bowed head lifted slightly----------expectantly! She must decide at once! Yet as he began to speak, she hesitated. What if her decision be wrong? Across her mind flashed forgotten pages of history. Did Caesar hesitate at the Rubicon?-----Did Cleopatra flirt with the adder?-----Did Nero hesitate while Rome burned? No! She was sure on the last point at least. History said he fiddled. She would decide! Yes—her mind was made up. But, as her faintly rouged lips parted, thoughts of home, of parents, of all that was her very own, entered into her troubled brain. She was unable to banish them! If she decided wrongly, what then? Would she dare again to face her friends? Impossible! She would be a leper, an outcast-------shunned by society. She twitched convulsively at the thought. Her mother had warned her again and again! Yes---------if she could only remember. Was there no loop-hole for escape? She looked down distractedly at the bent figure before her---a ripple of fear passed over her body. She must face the consequences; let fate take its course. She drew a deep breath! Try the shoe on the left foot, please?” A delicately shaped foot was thrust forward. A sigh of relief escaped her. She had decided correctly! -----the hole was in the right stocking! Eleanor De Mattia, June ’30. The Sparroiu I saw a little sparrow, Sitting in the snow. He winked at me so cheerily, He seemed to laugh—just so. I looked at him, he looked at me, And then we laughed together. He seemed to say— Come out and play, and never mind weather.” Spirit of Aviation Just a speck Up in the sky. Now it turns into a fly. Now it grows into a crane. Now I see , That it’s a plane. the Charles Alles, Feb. ’32. Twenty-one Carol Propper, Feb. ’32.

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THE REFLECTOR Twenty-three