Franklin K Lane High School - Senior Echoes Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 16 text:

Qu Qi C5776 Grystal-Qazer The perennial crystal-gazer Resumes his annual stare, To see within the future The seniors that may be there. The mist and shadow rises But the seer seems aghastz- Three hundred growing futures rise From out of the darkened past! They rise so high and steadily, He cannot even count The futures that are calling From up the heights they mount. And on the peak a banner Waves, How it glistens in the sun! For inscribed upon its folds there is '4The Class of June, 1931 ! R.S i12l

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LAMENT II You ask me how I get this way With my face so wan, no longer gay? You're wrong againg I have no pain, And it's not because I'm leaving Lane. You think perhaps I've flunked my Mathg Or I've wandered from the narrow path? Oh no, great worries cause this look, And it's 'cause I edit your Year Book. G. K. C911 Gfzoosing glffy CUocation Why am I so irascible? Why is my pulse all aflutter and my heart palpitiating on my sleeve? Ah, it is intolerable. I will keep this my darkest secret. I will never, never tell-never! .... But, since you insist .... I am no longer destined to be a child prodigy. Such are the trials and tribulations of age .... In my infancy, I delighted in problems .... But now my Waterloo is met. The old 'teeny meeny miny mov method Won't work anymore. To be or not to bel' is the Shakespearean question confronting me. Shall I give my talent to doctoring and the mighty task of inventing new diseases? I might be a pedagogue carrying the Torch of Learn- ing to warm the chilled brains of humanity. Easily enough I might be a lawyer, or a dentist pulling teeth at random, or an actor playing fortissimo upon your emotions, or even a philosopher delv past and discovering more objectionable and embarrassing the evolutions of man .... I Weep at my magnanimity, but evidently I lack the ing into the facts about strong will necessary to make such a vital decision. My career, if any, depends on my judgment. But then too, I might be an artist, or a poet, or a household mechanic, or a--here I go again. I despair-what shall I do? R. S. l11l

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