Framingham State University - Dial Yearbook (Framingham, MA)

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9 Auld Lang Syne YEARS have passed and here I am again in dear old Framingham. I have visited the school where I spent two happy years, finding few changes and now for a stroll along the favorite paths! Which way shall I go? As I look around trying to decide, the old temple, or as we used to call it, The Parthenon, looms up in view. So I slowly wander toward it, visiting on the way the nooks where we used to spend hour after hour watching the birds, when we were not reading or busily engaged in talking. Spring is certainly here, for as I wend my way up among the pines the air is sweet and here and there in the warm sunny spots I see tiny faces of familiar flowers. As I near the summit of the hill I hear a great moaning and sighing. It can not be the pines for the wind is not here to-day! What can it be? It seems to come from the very top of the hill. Perhaps someone is in the temple. When I reach the top, no one is in sight, but at last the mystery is solved. The Parthenon itself is talking and as I listen it says: Many a sermon has been delivered from my platform, many have danced over my smooth floor, and few are there who have not carved their initials on my pillars. VVhat pleasant memories I have when I think of them all! But there are some things which do not bring back pleasant memories. Certain people called Normalites used to come. At first it was a pleasure to me for they all read beautiful selections from Shakespeare. I soon knew portions by heart and longed for their coming, that l might hear them. But one day, all my feelings changed. No sooner had they begun, as usual, when Bang-Stamp-Bang-and I shook from head to foot! Shrill loud voices followed, then deep hurried tones, as if the speaker was angry. All that had seemed beautiful now was changed, for at almost every word I now received blows on my pillars from some fair but heavy hand and stamps from some small but determined foot. And so it went on from day to day. Nothing but bruises by day, and all my nights spent in doctoring my bruised timbers, but the black and blue marks still remained as well as my injured feelings. Une day when I was feeling quite blue they came and acted as usual. In the midst of the loud voices someone fell. I thought she had fainted and so forgot my own bruises, caused by her fall, to listen. I heard, Et tu Brute. Alas no use to sympathize! Another day after receiving an extra hard blow on one of my pillars, the maiden, who dealt the blow, attemptedto hug it. I thought she was apologizing for the deed and listened to what she was saying: Sweet, my coz, be merry. Not a single thought for me! As I stand spellbound, listening to all this, the words gradually be- come indistinct and die away and all that I can hear is the sighing of the pine trees. pi

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8 JUNIORS-We are glad to have had your friendship and your com- panionship, during the year, which has passed. We wish you the best of success, as you take our places as seniors. We have gradually been led to understand the high standard of our school and have tried to live up to it, as far as we have been able. We hope that you will strive to live up to its high ideals, with better success than ours. It is the helping hand of each individual, which raises the class to its highest standard. You have our sincere good wishes that the class of 191 I may be one of which our principal may well be proud. WE are of the opinion that many do not understand the importance of the secretary's office. While the president of the senior class holds her office for one year only, the secretary's oflice is for life. Upon her rests the responsibility of keeping the class together and in close touch with the school. She cannot do this, unless the members of the class do their share. 0105 A blaze of color, a dash of gold, Reflected beauty of power untold g- A deepening glow, then darkening hills The day is done,-'tis as God wills. , -L. P.

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10 On descending the hill it occurs to me that once more I can cross Wiggly Bridge. What delight it is! Pass over half way-for if you get that far you are safe-and then tetter up and down. Why was there any need of our wasting time in gymnasium classes trying to perform numerous graceless movements much to the dismay of our teacher, when we could go to Wiggly? Grace ?-my friends always compared me to a crow on a telephone wire. Balance?-not one movement we were taught is omitted if you do it correctly. Good exercise?-just go over to the other side and see how you feel. Shaky?-Oh, no! The sensations are the same as in former years and I feel just as nervous and uncertain as I ever did. Wiggly reminds me of Gordon's Bridge and there I must go, for how often we used to lean on the railing and look over into the dark and swiftly moving Sudbury. The same flowers are appearing there and per- haps it may be the same family of frogs as of yore, that are peeping and singing to me from their home over in the rushes. Yonder at the bend of the stream two little heads appear. Yes, I do believe the little water people know I have come back again and wish me to see them. The birds sing their merriest song as if to keep me there, and willingly would I stay but that I wish to walk along the Willow Road e'er I must depart. Who of us did not love the Willow Road? just now the trees are budding and over all appears that green halo, which blends so well with the gray of the bark. Tiny flowerets are peeping up along the roadside, which remind me to look in the old secluded corners where I always could find my earliest favorites. Then I come to the frog pool. Big frogs, little frogs and medium sized frogs are singing to their heart's content, and I can not resist the temptation of doing as I used to do. So I find a small stone and throw it into the pool, and where all had been singing before, now silence reigns. I wait, as I did years ago, for I know the frogs, and in a minute one old bull-frog croaks and then, one by one, big frogs, little frogs and medium sized frogs begin to sing. And so I could wander on and on but the sun is setting and I must turn homeward. E. F. li-111 Howe Can We Leave? Oh, l-lowe can we part from here, We grow to love it, Moore and Moore, Since underneath its sheltering Roof, We much have learned beside book lore. As Elder does this Young class grow- We'll study more and Reid, And though, perhaps, we may Doolittle, 'Twill be our best in thought and deed. L. K. P.