Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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ode to a Grecian Urn Entranced, I saw a picture on the vase That told the story of so long ago ; No longer does that age seem in a haze But now is fair and clear to all who know: Around the vase an ever-changing scene Which so enchants that looking on it, Lo I I lose myself in Grecian scenes, The Golden Age; Thou miracle of some great potter ' s hand; The figurines upon thy surface show Scenes from an olden page upon an ancient stage. Mary Aleene Agree, Low Nine. Ode to An Ugly Woman Oh, old woman, you have an ugly face ; If you looked in a mirror, you would see : Hard, gleaming, cked eyes, and not a trace Of a smile, and to no one would you be Kind. Your teeth are falling out, and your nose Is crooked; you ' re the village gossip; All town scandal comes from no one but you. You go from house to house at night and peek In people ' s windows, doors, do Ti chimneys, too. Old woman, for bad things in life you seek. Lois Judd, Low Xine. To Give To look for beauty every day Will gladden all of life ' s pathway, Find it in the fleecy clouds, In violets, sweet, that softly shelter Tender rootlets in freezing weather, In rain drops holding each a prism Of all the colors from glorious Heaven. To give some service every day, To cheer and brighten Love ' s pathway, A tender smile when one is weary, A flower to make a life more cheery, Soft words in answer to the harsh Will make Love ' s smile sweeter yet. And, all through life, it is worth while To go the generous other mile. - Elizabeth Gill, Low Nine.

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passengers were complaining of the intense heat, even though the ship ' s refrigeration was on. Hook it up, ordered Aero. Would it work? The question flashed through every mind on board. Or was it too late? The ship stopped. It started forward very slowly. Burst after burst of rockets came from the ship. Slowly, it picked up momentum and, finally, shot forward to reach cooler space. Several days later, they sighted Eureka, Mars. As they landed, Gene jokingly said to Aero, ' T thought this was going to be a record trip? It wasn ' t a record trip, but I made record time fixing that generator, replied Aero. Terry Jeeves, Low Seven. THE SEA The water was as calm and even as a highly polished sword. The sun on the water was a lane of sparkling gold disappearing over the horizon. The sky was a pale blue without depth; the stillness of the air threatened an unknown danger. But what danger could there be in such a death-like place? Then came darkness. Little wavelets, -gently blown before the increas- ing wind, lapped against the becalmed craft. The ship ' s wings, spread toward the black heavens, made a cup to catch the fleeting breeze. Out of the distance rushed the wind, like a dog freed of the chain. It tore its way through the bloated sail and left it in ribbons, as lightning to a towering tree. Gigantic mountains hurled themselves at the walls of the ship. Slowly the frail craft fought its way to the crest of the sea, then plunged down into the boiling mass that showered white foam over its deck-gear. As if in one last effort, the sea crashed its way through the splintered armor and poured into the vitals of the beaten vessel, gurgling into every compartment, smothering every mouth, then dragged all to the rocks below. Morning came. Into the sky climbed the sun. There were pink clouds all around it. Golden beams played on the water below. Yes — how peaceful it looked! What a difference in the scene that had taken place but a few hours before! Yet all that was left was a splintered piece of bobbing wood here and there. Hinsdale Latour, High Nine. MY DOG He was black all over, with only one small white spot on his leg. I called him Blackie. He was a bird dog. My father and I used to take him hunting with us all the time. I had great fun with him for about six years. When he died, I didn ' t know exactly what to do with myself and I didn ' t get over the loss for a long time. I have never had another dog. Bob Aldea, High Nine.

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Twilight The fiery west receives the sun And evening comes ; the day is done, While stars bhnk sleepy eyes above And soft is heard a cooing dove, Diana hangs her lantern out And sprinkles dew drops all about; The trees, tall watchmen of the night Are silvered in the moon ' s pale light; The night wind breathes its plaintive tune. But even this is hushed too soon, And we are left in solitude Upon these wondrous scenes to brood. Nadine Foreman, Low Nine. Keverie The whistle of a distant train. Moaning, The motor of an aeroplane, Droning, Two birds perched on a telephone wire, Singing, Four, smoky, gray clouds to the sky. Clinging, The sound of footsteps on the pavement. Clacking, The nervous, jumpy motorcycle, Cracking, The evening star in the now clear sky. Blinking, The fiery sun into the ocean. Sinking, Some one busy with his long grass. Mowing, The darkened shadows in the long street. Crowning — All these things, I see and hear while Resting. When one has this, what is gained by Questing? Gordon Connell, Low Eighth. Desert Land Sand, red and gold. Hills, purple at the rim. Dark men, tall and slim. Lean camels, plodding slow, — A different world from that we know, W. H. HoLLiNGSWORTH, High Seven.