Dominican College of San Rafael - Firebrand Yearbook (San Rafael, CA)

Page 133 text:

FOREST MEADOWS N FOREST MEADOWS one finds the spirit of play and culture combined. No matter what the season, there is always something going on. During the bright fall weather, green gym suits blend with the turf amid the swiftly moving hockey sticks, or are silhouetted with the archer ' s bow. There are always tennis enthusiasts (range: top to bottom) and a bridle path, fir-scented, to follow to the riding ring; here horse shows are given frequently. Or one can hike through the tanglewood and berry brambles of the wild, natural beauty that surrounds the meadows. In the open-air theatre nearby many artistic en- deavors have been presented, not only to the students, but to all who wish to attend. There are many mem- ories woven around the stage: the delicate color and grace of the ballet, the vividness of the Spanish danc- ers, the Russian-smocked Don Cossacks, the quaint and picturesque charm of Hansel and Gretel. The barbecue pit is the scene of picnic suppers, and dancing may follow on the tennis courts. With spring comes the mantle of pink-tipped daisies and the pageantry of the May Queen and her court: knights and ladies, jesters, friars, milkmaids, garland 129

Page 132 text:

Yet now thy prophecies are fulfilled, Thou has found thy green pasture, Even beyond the eternal firmaments, Thy bell-toned harp remains Unshattered, Hanging above us. Below crystalline spheres, Far below the cloak of God. Yet thy hand hath touched his cloak. Plucked at his star-bridled feet. The song of Israel still sounds And thou hast blessed the long Judean slopes. The psalms are truthful fountains, Thy praise is as of highest seraphs. Thou hast raised thy singing voice in prayer. Thou hast heard His word Relinquish thy soul to Me, Relinquish earthliness. Come unto Me, For I have loved Thee, My beloved. My lamb, even still while Thy feet were washed with blood. My love made a covenant with thee. Shelagh Scoville ' 50 128

Page 134 text:

girls and maypole dancers. And as the flaming sun ties its last beam to the pink-blue windings of the pole, the husky prayer of the Angelus softly sounds through the cool trees with which it is a very part. Marjorie Hansen ' 50 TRANSIENCE My love is transient As ephemerids; It ceases with night Until dawn. No sounding seas, Shadowed sands. Or wind razzia Sigh for me. My love is a transient love . . . A May fly, Slender, delicate insect with long. Membranous wings. Shelagh Scoville ' 50 130