Girls High School - Yearbook (Reading, PA)

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Longfellow, Wfhe., Sweetest of All Singers Alumni Prize Essay By Edith S. Brunner VER and over again we read, quote, and derive comfort from the foreign bards, but never with envy in our hearts, for although America has not as yet become a pillar to the throne of Art, not so many years have passed since, in this lzingdom between the seas, all the world heard the voice of one singing. ln an age of mighty shoutings, new inventions, and great confusion, he trerit. quietly amid the tumull, and had he been asked the reason why, he might tai. e answered, l am only shepherding my sheep with music. So he went quietly along' his chosen way which led sometimes to the door of the village smithy, sometimes to the pine-scented ship-yard, sometimes down the marble stairs into old gardens, HlLlll'O cities and thro solitudes, by towers of old cathedrals tall, and castles by the Rhine, but always among the ways and haunts of men, and always , Along that narrow-way Which leads no traveler's foot astray, From realms of love. , , From the wedding feast in an Indian lodge, he came to the tide-beaten coast ot Acadia and from a walk through tall dark trees, and by running brooks, where his thoughts flow ed along with the murmuring water, he always returned in time for The Childrenls Hour. ,ln his own heart the wavering pines and willows kept up a perpetual melody, and he could not choose, but sing back to them. As we suddenly stop in Spring to catch the song of the first robin, so men. women and children stopped under the charm of this strange lovely music. There was the youth, just setting out on lite's journey, and the old man whose days were well nigh spentg the toiler sweating beneath his load, and the idler who took new courage, the lonely sailor on t'ar-oli' seas, and the gray-minded scholar, whose candle burnt into the small hours of the nightg the happy mother, Crooning a lullaby, and the children for whom the charmer made old songs young with his singing. lrresistihly they were drawn, and as they,came, their faces became wonderfully lightened, while the tigzagged paths of their lives grew more straight, for A t'God sent his Singers upon earth That they might touch the hearts of men With songs of gladness and ot mirth And bring them hack to Heaven again. 1

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Third Year Course in Domestic Science Care of Infants

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7, They were noise-weary ofthe clashing cymbals and big drums, and nothing could seem better worth the hearing than the melodies'which brought sweet order into life's confusion. Then, too, this songster understood their every- day cares, cares which wear the heart and waste the body, and he bade them Fear not in a world like this And thou shalt know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong. It was not the wish of his heart to spur them on to deeds of valor, or to be their leader on a long quest in search of another Holy Grail. Rather than show them the sun-rise joy of Heaven, he would have them see the sun set peace of earth. And so the shepherd sang his way along, while those who loved him best, followed in his train, treasuring in their hearts a faith and love best expressed by some of his own words: The words that dropped from his sweet tongue, As pleasant song, at morning sung, Strengthened our hearts, or heard at night Made all our slumbers soft and light. And then the flaming arrow of death came upon his only earthly treas- ures, and the father, in this case, was called upon to give in tears and pain the flowers he most did love. And not only were the children of his life taken, but far down in the valley of shadowl' they heard his voice telling: i'And with them the being beauteous Who unto my youth was given More than all things else to love me And is now a saint in heaven. ' For a long time the music was silent as the shepherd tarries and wrestles in this mystical temple of sorrow but one bright day he came again to his flock, and he was singing: ' Oh, though oft depressed and weary All my cares are laid aside, If l but remember only, Such as these have lived and died. Although the memory of this subdued sorrow was always present, he never allowed it to become repining. He might have sung My life is cold, anddark, and dreary, lt rains and the wind is never Weary, but his symphonies never ended with a throb, and in self-reproof, and encour- agement to his comrades he finished- Be still, sad heart, and cease repining, Behind the clouds is the sun, still shining. 16