Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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THE REFLECTOR couple. The long, dreary night was nothing short of a nightmare, a horrible, vivid nightmare. But the dawn again brought with it courage, and Ralph and Eileen climbed down from their awkward positions. Both were stiff from the night's quarters. They had now to think of finding a way home. Surely it was ridiculous to hope to be able to walk back to civilization, but it was just as silly to expect aid to drop from the clouds. Clouds-they themselves had dropped from the clouds. The two looked up, and there they were-white, immense, low. But they were African clouds, and part of the secrets of the jungle. Secrets! What else was there but secrets? There was a secret behind the next tree, a secret in the rustle of the leaves, a menace in unseen, growling beasts. Nothing was in sight--everything was concealed, hidden, waiting. A lion was angrily pushing his way through the brush. There was no effort at quiet, the lion, snarling and abusive, just boldly thrust him- self upon the day. He threw his head from side to side in a sullen, biting mood. A twig snapped, and on a limb of a tree not far away, a rolled up, yellow ball uncurled. It was a crouched panther. The giant leaves swayed over him, camouflaging his tense presence-another phase of the jungle's secrets. The boy and girl wandered. Where? Even they did not know. They could not stand still, so they wandered, hand in hand, quietly, re- signedly. They would face the jungle, defy it, expose it. They would breathe, live, fight every inch of the Way. A sleepy jungle found itself deserted. Long shadows were now play- ing in and among the trees. Lazy ponds and lakes lay calmly awaiting the moon. Then only could they awaken and reflect the brilliance of the dancing moonbeams, glittering beautifully in the dark of the night. The sky had become dark, the treetops were completely lost far above. The day had ended, night had begun. The moon rose slowly. Louis Gnoss, June 1932. The Swan O, beautiful swan, I see you there, In a beautifully gardened pond. O, graceful swan I picture you, There among the gently spraying fountain. O, delicate swan adrifting, Drifting as though moved by dainty breezes. O, dark blue sky, you, too, are there, With your little sparkling eyes. O, quiet sky, you lend beauty there, There, with the gardened pond, and the gliding swan. ROY TEETSELL, June 1932. Thirteen

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THE REFLECTOR giggled with each succeeding monkey's antics, and Ralph too smiled, but now in relief. The situation was serious, decidedly more so than he dared admit. But he, too, must keep his spirits high, and manner flip- pant. Oh, Ralph, Ralph, I have found it. Look! Look--there! ' Indeed, she had found it, it was the plane. It was in a million and one pieces, of course, but at that, it was in its entirety. They rushed to- ward it, at the same time noticing one of the wings hanging still, in a nearby tree. Excitedly, they encircled the wreck, merely looking. Shaking himself from his daze, Ralph strode toward the remains of what was once a plane, and sought to find something, he didnit say what. Finally he pulled out two sandwiches, and then, from far underneath the debris, a cushion. Linton, without even looking up, handed the sand- wiches to the girl, who had by now reached his side and was watching him expectantly. He ripped a bit of the overstuffed pillow, and dug his hand inside. What he pulled forth was an automatic. He, evidently, had been wisely precautious. He further disclosed a number of cartridges. We may need this. She looked at him, her look was a quizzical one. It was as though she were mentally asking, What's the idea?,' He was still muttering to himself. You never can tell, we may need this, and desperatelyf' Once again he shook himself and laughed, a true enough laugh. It Was reassuring, and Eileen smiled up at him, he was so easy to smile with. The sun had become weary, and was reluctantly succumbing to the beckoning call of the west. Her head was bending slowly in the direc- tion, and she seemed to be closing her eyes, allowing the jungle shadows to cast their ominous threats in long ghostly shapes. The breeze of the afternoon had become biting and chilled, the cool, refreshing atmosphere had taken on a cold, harsh aspect. It was all so oppressive. Gone was the feeling of joy and elation. Eileen smiled wanly at Ralph, and glanc- ing around slowly she groped for his hand. She found it and held it tightly. It was so nice and warm, the only thing warm around her, it seemed. It was getting darker and darker, quite suddenly, too. Ralph looked up into the tree, looked down at the now shivering Eileen, and decided to risk the carrying out of a plan which he had been forming. There wouldnit be much comfort, but the tree would keep them secure and out of reach of wild animals. She was willing to try anything once, and the next minute they were climbing the limbs of the tree. And there, in the branches, they doubled up and endeavored to find rest. They reclined uncomfortably for a while, neither wishing to express his or her unhappy thoughts. They were seeking oblivion in sleep, while the jungle had at last awakened. Below could be heard the slow, padded walking of giant cats, of the ferocious, fierce type. Low rumbling came up to the tensely listening Twelve

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THE REFLECTOR T0 Beauty O beauty, let me capture thee And tie thee down with words, Before my eyes are shadowed slits, And Time has stuffed my ears with age. For now I know thee well, Aye, know thee with the intimate familiarity of love, Walking in thy glowing glory all the day, Rapturously dreaming dreams of thee at night. But knowing thee and loving thee as well as I do now While youth burns hotly in myself, What shall I do when I am old And can no longer seek thee out In dawn and rose and brook and bird as I do now! Why then . . . why even with good fortune as my guide, If I stumble on thee unawares, How shall I recognize thy laughter Ur know thy soul-entrancing smile, If light is dim and sound is mute And I am old .... O beauty, life will be a mockery, a melancholy thing, If empty hours follow glorious days, Without thee, after being more than friends, I shall be lonely, desolate, and sad, And die at last of grief,-heartbroken. So, beauty, let me capture thee And with apt phrases tie thee down That I may always summon up The loveliness my eyes have seen, The melody my ears have heard. All these are beauty I have seen: Fog, the dim immensity of stars, Hills etched and hills that billow, Day breaking like the chime of distant bells, Mountains blurred by miles, smoke in the wind, Sunshine dazzling on snow, Drifting continents of cloud, Oaks that shadow quiet pools, The genial glow of logs ablaze, Surf surging up to kiss the cliff's gray cheek, Rainbows bridging earth and immortality, Wet grass, the face of a little child asleep, Sheep on the hillside, sky and sundown, All these are beauty I have seen.