Columbus School for Girls - Topknot Yearbook (Columbus, OH)

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TOP-KNOT,1930 MIDNIGHT The night, painted silver by the strange soft glow of the moon breathes shadowy syllables meaning nothing and everything. The veil separating the- finite from the inlinite is gossamer, woven faintly by the spell and mystery of it all. The wind in the trees murmurs, crooning to the cool white stars almost touching the earth in their nearness. The moon passes behind a cloud. The dark draws more closely about the earth as though to whisper of a soul about to be born, a soul belonging to the moon - to be born on a ray of moonlight. There is silence there, a silence born of great sorrow and great joy. The moon, the stars, the night are eternity. 7 MARY HADLEY LEWIS, 1930 HARRIET ATWELL, 1930 PAGAN His mind from this life wandered far, His soul craved to be freeg His guiding light a heathen star That others could not see. He stood apart, and quite alone, As on another planeg He scorned the ties conventions make, Staid, commonplace, and sane. They often said that he was mad, That passive, earthbound raceg They couldn't see the light of dreams Was shining in his face. He lived among them all his days, A dreamer among foolsg He stood out like a tongue of flame That burns and never cools. GRACE POSTON, 1930 1211

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COLUMBUS SCHOOL for GIRLS FROM DAVVN TO DAWN TDAWN HE dark of night turns to sapphire blue. Slowly shafts of the softest colors appear in the form of a giant prism in the eastern sky. All of the cool green earth, refreshed by a period of deep silence and sleep, is breathless in expectant ecstasy. A flame shadows the horizon. The sapphire blue shades lighten to a more liquid color, soft yet exotic because of lingering, crimson edged clouds. For a moment the whole seems merged into a shimmering mirage, the soul of beauty in color. Waiting, Waiting! A vibrant red disk ascends the sky. The promise has been fulfilled . . . NOON The delicate fabric that was dawning sunlight molds itself into a burning ball of brilliance. No fragile Web of moisture now rests onthe soft greens and blues of early morning. Every color that once so bravely Haunted its glory unites into molten gold. The god of the heavens is relentless, nothing stirs on the earth as the merciless rays of the once gentle sun beat unsparingly on lake and hill, man and beast. The searing swords of sun rays Whip the clouds into oblivion, and all that lives wilts to submission. Parched, drained of motion and color, the day is wreathed in a fiery golden mist. It gathers its forces imperceptibly, and crouches, waiting. SUNSET Day rouses from its lethargy for one final moment of glory before it sinks into the depths of night. The western sky, painted a pure young gold by the artist, Sun, disregarding the surrounding calmness of the grey clouds, deepens into violet. Then, discarding the rosy violet, the sky flings before the astonished World a banner of indescribable youth and gaiety. It is the essence of sunset. This magic effect is short-lived for the sun draws every color into a fast fading radiance. Some clouds send their hues to tint the eastern and southern skies, or perhaps drop to change the ocean into a mirror of velvet rose. As calm greyness slowly descends over all, one cloud of flame flaunts itself before the darkening World. Then silver mist permeates the Whole. The day ends. l20l

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COLUMBUS SCHOOL for GIRLS READING HE reading of good books is a diversion which all of us can enjoy if we but choose to do so. Everyone of us has the opportunity to delve into literature that has been written from the earliest times to the present day. If a little discrimination is used in the choosing of our books, reading will always be a source of the greatest pleasure to us, for all of the wisdom, the emotions, and the philosophy of the greatest men and women of all ages is bequeathed to us in literature. Any emotion we may have felt, any problem we may have had to meet, another has experienced and discussed for the enlightenment of posterity. We might sometime come across our own life written in a book, perhaps not word for word, but often the resemblence is so striking that we feel a little resentful that the book is public property. Human beings possess different personalities, different physical appearances, but they are essentially the same, their thoughts, emotions, and experiences coincide. Literature gives us a much broader outlook on life, because we realize that others have experienced our adven- tures, have thought our thoughts, have faced our problems, in short, have almost lived our lives. Reading has a tendency to make us less intro- spective, for we realize that our own troubles, our philosophies, our experiences are not unique in the world. VVhat a wide field the modern reader has to choose from! Never before were authors more prolific than now. The brightly-colored jackets of scores of new books greet our eyes from the shop windows every day. It is bewildering to imagine the vast number of people who must be engaged in literary labors to turn out the immense number of books on sale today. Out of all of these hundreds of books it would not be rash to say that no more than half are worth even afuirsorylpferusal. It is quite the fashion now to make frantic attempts to read every new book that appears on the market. People are heard to speak glibly of this and that new book, so glibly in fact that one begins to doubt if they have more than peeked beneath the cover. To attempt to read even one-third of the books that appear in such abundance today is a futile undertaking at best, and one from which the reader ' ' gains little. How much more We would gain if we would turn to some of the old and tried literature which has retained its glamour and power to interest throughout many generations. Who can be said to be less rich for having l22l