Fryeburg Academy - Academy Bell Yearbook (Fryeburg, ME)

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24 The Academy Bell i Then no more ghostly footsteps trod Across that wet and blood-soaked sod. Instead of martial tramp of feet, F ootfalls of freedom filled the street. Tho, happy people laughed and cried, From time to time one of them sighedg For still the garnet stained earth Was there reminding them of death. But soon they cast their gloom aside- The reason why the dead had died Was so the living might live on- Have freedom, license-sorrow gone. So twilight fell on world serene, For soon the sod ,gain would be clean.- Then I awoke in world war-torn-, Saw people suffiring and forlorn. Yet still my dream encouraged meg I saw this strife not long to be. The rains, the blood, the tramping feet, The battle-over and complete. Soon twilight on this troubled scene Will fall, the red earth will be clean By morning, when we'll start anew To build our world-a union true. IANE BROWN, '45 SHADE AND SHADOW DARKNEss is pervading all things. The long shadows of afternoon have now spread, covering all things in this silent march. The golden brown and tans of afternoon have faded into the grays and blacks of evening. Those bright clouds that hung silver during the day have now become beauti- ful shades of gray. Beginning with pitch black in the east, the hues run across the skies until they become a little lighter over there in the west where the sun was last. Now all the friendly buildings and trees have suddenly become menacing giants without form or shape. They tower high above us, all their former shape gone. The advancing wave of darkness robs them of their daytime dress and clothes them in shadows and darkness. This is a picture of shade and shadow-the world at twilight. RICHARD COFFIN, ,47

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The Academy Bell of these hoodoos Theyill really surprise and interest you. You'll even find your hair standing on end if you're in the right mood, So goodnight, good reading and remember at twelve o'clock the ghosts walk! - PATRICIA ROBERTS 46 PROPHETICAL The rain came down, the day was drear, No sun's rays made the morning clear, And all was solemn, all forlorng The joys of yesterday were gone. The rain beat hard and harder stillg It made streams out of ev'ry rill. No people walked, yet in the street I heard the sound of marching feet. A streak of lightning pierced the sky, And still I heard the steps pass by, While thunder pealed with om'nous roar As if depicting trouble sore. And as I watched a stream How by Along the road, before my eye, No more its clearness washed the streetg Now it was blood-red at my feet. Still did those tramping footsteps tread, They seemed unheeding of the red Now flowing faster through that hell, While rolling thunder tolled a knell. As still I watched that gruesome sight, It seemed I saw a patch of light, With caution peering through a cloud, Which long had hung-a deadly shroud. Yes, then t'was certain that the sun Was coming through-the rain was done More slowly still the red stream Howedg The steps grew fainter on the road. A church bell rang, a Whistle blew, The sun's rays shone then bright and true. More bells pealed out along the way, And doors were opened to the day.

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The Academy Bell 25 IDRUMMANIA BEALE Street at midnight was an ever-rising undertone of chants, tinkling pianos and mysterious aromas. Soft lights streamed from cracks in clouded windows. The low monotones of throbbing drums brought pulsating rhythm to your blood. Once inside, you found dim blue lights playing tricks upon your eyes. Before you, a vision of a beautiful girl giving forth with Blues In The Night stimulated you with excitement. Her background accompaniment was a screen of smoke through which you occasionally caught a glimpse of a glassy-eyed drummer and a gangling half-awake pianist. The throaty notes of the singer played upon your emotions till you were drugged with the atmosphere. The last thing you remembered was the pulsating rhythm of the tom-tom passing in the night, then you were swept out of reality into memories of the past or dreams of the future. MARGARET WARNER, '46 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL Book One of my life is closed, It's not a perfect book: I've made mistakes, I have missed many things, There are things I should have done, And things I should do over. There will be regrets, many of them, When I look upon this book, upon myself. The book of my F ryeburg life is finished, Except a few short lines- Homecomings, reunions- Days of painful, nostalgic joy. How I hate to see the covers of this book Still shine with the smiles of school day friends Close to my reluctant eyes! I place it on my shelf and turn- And lo! upon my desk a new book Dancing in the light of things to come. I open it and on the page, These words, and a golden pen. Those words were these, just six: This book you write, my sonli' Pfc. ROBERT CHUTE, '44