Eastern High School - Echo Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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--+Ef The EASTERN ECHO A Poem in A Brook By DORIS GROSSMAN, '35 W' here the river rushes, eagerly Pushing the clear, cool water Over the rocks, and stumbles wildly Into a silent pool 5 Where the trees are young-or old- Cool green in the blistering sunzmer's heat, W' here the oaks are sturdy, restful, tall, Stretching into the sky, upright, Serene, and bold,' VV here the willows are weepy, Sad, and feminine, ' Falling together in flulfy groves Till they stoop and sink g ll' here the nzaples are young And eager to grow strong and straight Like the oak, Where the birds are happy and sing as though To H i-rn for providing a heaven Of trees and brooks, Where the quails are bold and call to me, And I whistle back, Bob-white, bobwhitej' Wlzere the wrens are busy loving their world A nd Jenny sings, Pee-wee, pee-wee, g You can-'t see nie! Poor Jenny, I can! Where the sparrows- fBut sparrows are common,-I wonderlj llf here the sparrows bathe in a whirling pool Of clear water, and rapids, and falls,- W here the blue-jays jabber with the squirrels And robins brown, with breasts That are really red, eat wild berries Fro-rn the juniper trees 5 Where the elderberries pull their 'vines Into the water, and the rump-cherries Are not yet ripe, W' here the clouds are fleecy, and calmly Drift along, sliding behind the willows, A synz-phony in green and white, Where the skies are as blue As the wings of a bluebird And soften the green of the grasses In the dawn-all sprinkled With elfn-touched dew, Where the evening skies Are glorious in their ever-changing beauty, With soft reds, like the humming-bird's Breast, and yellow-reds As though the sun and moon were combined j And then tlzese visions, dull and brilliant, Fade, and purple, the crystal purple of dawn And the dusky purple of mountains, Slzrouded with mists of silver-frost And gilded with rays of golden sunshine, Breaks the tranquillity of an innocent sky, When the night rel urns, and all grows gray, I feel that I have been gazing At visions not nieant for me. But I know that He has made me immortal, For mere mortals would behold Such glories through eyes and souls That could not comprehend The works of God and the Sun. By BARBARA BAUER, '35 Why, gentle April's moody, There are tears upon her cheek! The naughty, plaintive beauty- But, see! She's ever meek! How wistful is her mourning, How mild her pale blue eyes, How gently sweet her bearing, How soft, how sad her sighs! Her sister May 'would dance in glee, A na' flaunt abroad her gay beauty, Nor would the lovely June lament, But don again her bright raiment. Y et were I forced to make my choice Tween April's sighs and M ay's glad voice, 'Tween .lune's sheer gown of rarest hue And Aprifs pleading eyes of blue, I know the choice my heart would make, I know the maiden I should take, For April with her languid air, Though she is sad for one so fair, Leaves in her wake a fresh, sweet world,' Shy violets 'neath the grass dew-pearled And budding trees all tipped with green Wild blossoms, fairest to be seen, And skies of purest, brightest hue W' ith all the gray transformed to blue. -A--if 16 ge.-

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tt M-+SfThe EASTERN ECI-1013-M 21 followed by a few hours of unrestful sleep, in which she heard Michelis Violin calling to her, 'E'aer the wild 'world over, lass, t Ever the trail held true, Over the world and under the world And back at the last to you ! that Fedya awoke in a particularly bad humor. Before the rehearsal Mr. Goldbaum called her into his office and informed her that she was to do a Spanish dance, in Spanish costume, in place of one of her gypsy numbers. V ainly she told him that she had been brought up in the gypsies' way of dancing and could no more wield the castanets than she could a bass drum. Immovable he stood as the rock of Gibraltar as he said that they would try it at the rehearsal. Sullenly Fedya went through her regular rou- tine of dances. As it neared the time for her to perform her fandango, she burned with such rage as she had never felt before. She heard the cue for her entrance, and mechanically she danced onto the stage, her arms waving grotesquely above her head as she tried to accustom herself to the new management of the unwieldy castanets. As she reached the center of the stage, she tripped because of the unaccustomed tightness of her skirt. She fell forward and sprawled her length quite awkwardly upon the floor. The spectators in the wings and Mr. Goldbaum roared with laughter at her clumsy performance. Instantly she sprang to her feetg quickly she snatched the comb from her hair and the castanets from her fingersg furiously she dashed them to the floor and stamped upon them. Storming up and down the stage, she cried in a voice fired by her Latin temperament every exclamation she had ever heard in all her years of wandering. Concluding her outbreak, Sacre dios! she cried, I am finished! I will go back to my people -back where I can do what I want. You--you are all-all pigs! I despise you and your city! Good- bye! F ranctically she rushed from the stage and made her way to her room 5 hurriedly she threw her gypsy clothes into a bundle with some money and jewelryg quickly she made her way to the street, and headed for the open country. All about her was freedom, the clear blue of a cloudless June sky, the warbles of a hundred birds as they expressed their opinions of the weather, the gently nodding heads of the flowers as they gave their approval to Mother Nature. When finally she reached the little grove where her caravan had often paused, she changed into her carefree gypsy clothes and looked about for some token to tell her how far in advance of her the caravan was. As she glanced down at the spot where their campfire had been, she saw a patteran, a dried bunch of Howers, lying on the ground. She picked it up and, as she did so, she saw a piece of paper in its midst which said May 20. It was then june 21, and Fedya knew her people wished to cross the border into Austria by the first of July. If she hurried along the trail they intended to take, without many or long stops, she would be able to catch up with the caravan and Michel. Eagerly she turned her footsteps toward the west and the sinking sun. Stopping only to snatch as little sleep as necessary, she journeyed westward. Food was plentiful as she had quite an amount of money left from her adventure in the theatre in Budapest. Sometimes if she did not think she had gone fa-r enough during the day, she would follow her lonely trail under the light of the shimmering stars. Sometimes she would find an- other patteran which would give her new hope fContinued on Page 1102 To Billy Qlnspired by a little boy of sevenj By EVENDEN DALEY, '33 H e's a mighty fine little fellow W'-ith at 'mop of sandy hair And beneath it eyes of azure, PVhich shine with radiance rare. Eager they seem as they search me To take in all I can give- A scrap of knowledge 'bout engines, Sycamore balls, and siefaesf' Quest-ions unrnlnzbered he asks nfte. ll hat do you like best to eat? A-re you waiting for old Saint Nicholas? W' hat makes the sunfs great heat? W' hy doesn't it snow in summer? U How does the cotton plant grow? Why do they paint all the barns red ? All this and more would he know. Yet in spite of all his questioning, lfVhicl1 some folks say annoys, I'1n glad to know that Billy Is just like other boys. -.sf 15 yt.-

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