Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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“The Pilgrimage.” (CLASS POEM). The morning breaks. Across the dome of night The long red arrows of the God of Day Ascend in swift majestic curves. On leaf. The verdent blade, and petal scintillate The jewels of the morn. The birds take wing And hail the sun with notes of cheerfulness. The laborer, rising, wends his way afield To guide anew the plow or harrow. From Repose the pilgrim wakes, and whistling many A cheery melody, he turns his face To catch the glory of the rising sun, And hopefully begins his quest anew. This pilgrim band begins the quest anew For that long-sought-for land that lies away, Yea many leagues away, across the plain. Pictured by fancy, colored by the hand Of hope it lies hid by the heavy haze That rests upon the boundry line of earth And heaven. Fair to see, this nameless land ; So fair the vision of its waving trees, Its flowery meadows, rugged hills and vales Of verdent hue, its rivers broad, blue lakes, And here and there the songs of babbling brooks, 'Cl ear melodies of birds, and in the boughs The whispering zephyrs. Sweet this vision of The great Beyond that rises with the sun To cheer and to inspire the heart of him Whose vision, rising on the wings of hope And noble purpose, seeks to leave behind The sordid and the mean to gain the good. In ages gone, since first the eyes of man Turned from the earth and upward toward the sky, We see this band begin to cross the plain. We watch them go along this untrod way, And listening, may hear, now faint, now loud, Distant crys of joy and pain, as here and there Some weary plodder falls, or else inspired 31

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Last, but, by no means least, Carl Wilson our President! He has obtained the nickname Joby, by inheritance. Whenever Joby broke a test tube in the laboratory, silently and slowly would he creep to the waste box, there drop the broken article, and then return just as meekly to his own place. His pictures prove conclusively his affection was for girls. But Carl was our “Big Stick and will always be, remembered as such. How loyally and faithfully he labored for the welfare of our family! Now, dear friends, what is your conclusion? You have heard something of our individuals, but in general, what is your conception of our class of 1908? Far up in the heavens, written in letters of gold is the word, “Greatness.” To obtain this, is the aim of this quiet unassuming 1908 class. It is the greatness of simple honesty that we seek. In the business world, in society, in the world of scholars, in the home, wherever one may find our works in the coming years, may we be an honor to our Alma Mater. So we press on and say : The mountain side’s been rugged Which has led to heights of fame. But we’ve climbed and struggled upward And chiseled out our name. The way was rock and thorn strewn And many a foe we’ve faced, But each step has helped us upward, And the goal is worth the race. Maude Bruner. 30

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With hope by some mirage with nodding treetops, Refreshing water cool upon the plain, Leaps on with shout of joy, thinking that he Has reached the goal. Or when, perchance, by dint Of valient efforts, purpose pure, some one At last reposes, in the fragrant shades On some real oasis, our heart leaps up In sympathetic triumph, seeing that The earnest seeker may not seek in vain. My classmates, you and I are pilgrims. Up From out the red-grey east is faintly seen The first bright tintings of the rising sun That ushers in the early morn of our Maturity. Before our eyes, now opening from The pleasant dreams of childhood and of youth, Dimly disclosed beneath the breaking light, Stretches the boundless plain of life, o’er which The morning breezes play that tell us tales Of joy and sorrow, failure and success. The time has come when we must also take Our pilgrim’s staff and wander forth to seek Whatever quest we will. Ambitious hope In radient colors paints fair visions of That country; high ideals, which those kindly Spirits of our early years have woven in The warp and woof of our young lives, lend to Our untried limbs a buoyant strength that we Like fledglings from the nest may fly away In safety, not to fall before the first Fierce blasts of fell temptations. Guardian Angels Are these beloved ones of the school and home, Whose presence in the vale of memory May verdent make the hot and withering sands That sweep the desert of adversity, Or lighten up the paths of sorrow. These Will sweeter be when far behind us stretch The milestones of the years long gone, and that First haven is but as a distant dream. Our short sojourn has been a happy one. Pleasant the hours of study, pleasanter The hours of play. Not tedious though the time Employed in useful labor, this but exercise 32