Girls High School of Brooklyn - Blue and Gold Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 10 text:

Eight His lips against the pipes thrust forth, There in the forest, where you see The moon unfold from south to north. Return and glow beneath it, only A slim gleam in the forest's swerve- The moon out here would pierce your body, The flame would burn your body's curve, For only in depth one dares to go With naked limbs and naked heart, There are a thousand spears in light To tear the brave, glad thing apart. . . And the gold shrilling of the earth Would stifle youg so you would stare, An unacquainted flower, bruised And battered on the mammoth air. You might not be unhurt enough To ever rise and bathe the wound In a dusky chrysalis .... You might sink where you had swooned, Down into the greedy soil, And feed yourself to ilower's roots Turned to April-you might be Engendered in the earth's shoots .... Nymph, go back, you were not meant To be, a flower, you are just A young sprite vaguely real, a dream Of wind and star and leaf's dust- An unreal thing can never come Into reality and stand The surety of life against The transient breast, the psycic hand. . . Nymph, return to the soft moving Of dim things unwaylaid by flame, If you are caught in the dawn's wonder, You will have only yourself to blame ...... Anna Elizabeth Bennett, June, 1931

Page 9 text:

Nymph, Go Back YMPH, nymph, from the forest running, Slight, lovely, shaft, and white quiver, Stay a while longer in shadow, in purple Print from the leaves in the wind's shiver- It is too much for a fragile thing To slip into sun, untaught, unheeding, Leave this to birds and dark-skinned flowers Whose stripped hearts long before stopped bleeding. Return to Pan and the swift glimpses Of fauns in the dark's thrust, silver haired ..., You would be lost in the sun's turning, You would be pitifully ensnared- Leave it to us to walk in light, Mortals who have never known The deep, uncertainty of dark, The synthesis of forest-bone. We stagger out against the heave Of iire immortal, for we are Not things of music, as a nymph Who whittles pipings from a star, Who moves upon the inner air, The inmost breathing of the world- You would gasp like a young bee Within his first sweet Hower curled .... Go back to Pan, and to the sound Seven

Page 11 text:

The Tale of Eg-are and Amourette CContaining an account of the doings of Guinevere regarding Lancelot and a certain young ladyj NCE upon a time there was a knight. I shall not tell you his name, but since we must call him something for purposes of convenience, we may as well call him le Chevalier Egare. They called Gareth Beaumains -in fact, I think it was Egare himself who proposed this title-so if French he the fashion, French it shall be in deference to our knight. Egare was not of quite as great renown in Arthur's court as Lancelot, for instance, but he was quite as well liked as anybody, and I prefer Egare infinitely to Galahad. However., one day, while Egare was seeing how great a color-metamor- phosis teasing could make in Sir Kay's lemony face, a beautiful maiden entered the great wide hall. She had long, dark hair, and eyes which approached their darkness rather through grey than brown, a very white skin, and she was tall and well built. She advanced toward the King with such a queenly air and such consciousness of beauty in her gaze that Guinevere glanced apprehen- sivcly at Lancelot. As soon as Guinevere ascertained that Alnourette was prettier than she, immediately the nose of the better royal half was turned heavenwards, and kept at that precarious angle all the time Amourette was there, thus making the Queen lose a chance of flirting with Lancelot. As you have probably already prophesied, my clever reader, Egare was immediately enslaved by the charlns of this lovely demoiselle, so he decided that he would be the one that would ride through the forest to Nine