College of St Marys of the Springs - Yearbook (Columbus, OH)

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ww - ww wuz PWIC . twig 5 mmf ' time 1 :Wie ' NWI RQSigIldI!0ll csovbomore Editiom HERE is no class, however bright an clever, !Yffe1g But some slow girls are there! There is no teacher, patient howsoever, But does at times despair! We Sophomores are surely no exception, To universal rule, For many seem to lack that quick perception, Of so much use in school! We see but dimly through the wars of Caesar. Geometry's a blank, Our English teacher, never do we please her, Though we've ourselves to thank. cl From Junior girls and such, 'Tis difficult to get outside assistance, And even if we urged with strong in They could not help us much. sistence, ' So the air is full of compliments inverted, And blame both looked and said: And still the Sophomores are uncon No contrite tear is shed. Let us be patient, these severe correc Not from ill will arise, verted, tions But oftentimes the Sister's predilections Assume this strange disguise. We must not work too hard, through fear of failing, But take our time for play, Perhaps what seems but effort unavailing Will win success some day. EDNA SNYDER -1-i.i....i.-...Q to a time First Zommunicant W They seem like a field of flowers, Those childish forms in white. As they gleam through the golden showers Of the altar's shimmering light: And flowers they must be, surely. Entwined at the Savior's feet, Reflecting I-lis grace so purely In faces so clear and sweet. Ecce, the priest is saying Agnus Dei, comes soft and slow, As the anxious hearts are praying And the little heads bend low. There is one to me seems fairest Of all the happy group: The fairest and the dearest ln all the saintly troop: And in my daylight dreaming, lt seems to me that now The lights of Heaven are streaming In a halo 'round her brow. Before the altar kneeling She seems but a dream of grace With invisible angels stealing The lilies from her faceg To place, instead, sweet roses To nestle on each cheek, While each in a way discloses The joy that her lips would speak. Dear Child, forever o'er you May l-leaven's best blessings play, !..ife's rugged path before you With peace and contentment lay: May the joys that today you cherish Increase as the years wear on, And the woes that would ,cloud them, p Till all but the good be gone. 25 , 'l 4. erish

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:wig I' Quiz? g ,twig li gluing : LNWIC gzwff TWIC . guy! l Luang 4 Wa Aw-IJ 'NNNUW NHPF, I 4 day, dwells in solitary places, tone is borne aloft in the air, clam , N the vales of classic Greece, there dwelt long ago a wood- land nymph called Echo, one of the loveliest of the sylvan band that followed in the train of Diana. Oft she was called upon to minister unto I uno, and repeatedly offended that goddess by her blithesome, care-free gayety and talkativeness. But there came a time when a deep and lasting sorrow entered the heart of Echo and the once happy little nymph seeking out the solitude of the forest, pined away in loneliness and quiet, until the pitying gods, looking down upon her distress, changed her material frame into stone of the earth. But that spiritual essence which refuses annihilation and baffles defilement was ordained to wander over the earth, manifesting itself in her listless voiceg and even to this repeating the last cadence of every sound. When a joyous Echo repeats it in gladsome strain: but if a sigh is breathed in anguished whisper, she answers with a trembling moan. Oh beautiful story conceived over two thousand years ago by some uinglorious Homer, and addressed to a far-off people, yet telling us today of the tremendous, multiplied force of personal influence! Let the cynic smile at our childish credulity. but let the deeply reflective mind seek to interpret the wise old tale of pagan Greece, for there it will find concealed in allegory, the lesson of the enduring power of personality. Nor does it seem improbable that the ancient seer while writing this tale had in mind this thought, for pagan though he was, his soul may have yearned for truth just as the whole human race yearns for it. and in an hour of preternatural exaltation, he may have had a heavenly insight, such as makes prophets out of unlettered men, and this old tale may have been the offspring of that hour. Be that as it may, the legend should not be regarded from a merely esthetical point of view, but rather as an allegory, illustrating one of the noblest principles of Christian ethics. That the similitude between this ancient tale and the idea of personal influence today may be wrought out, let us consider the rebounding. multiplied force accompanying every human act. The poet in his sublime elegy tells us that Many a flower is born to blush un- seen and waste its sweetness on the desert air -a beautiful thought, and true, if we accept it literally: but if we interpret it as a figure of speech, meaning that many a man may pass through life without influencing others, then the poet sacrificed truth for beauty. A man can no more go through life without influencing others. than the little star away up in firma- ment can keep from shedding light upon the dark earth. Influence goes forth from man without his volition, without his even knowing it. We live in too close contact with our fellow men to escape influencing them, and, in our turn, emulating their example. Men to- day are consuming their life's energy in making new discoveries in science that they may assist in the upward movement of civilization. Blessed is he who dving. leaves for future genera- tions his inventions to lighten labor, yet thrice blessed is he. who dying, leaves a rich soul- capital as a legacy for those who come after him. The human soul is greater than any or all of God's material creations, and not scientific inventions. but uplifting soul, measures pro- gress as God willed it. i 26