Hackley School - Annual Yearbook (Tarrytown, NY)

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THE 1929 ANNUAL Q Page ten :munnnm -mum umm: jfnretnurh ROGRESS is usually not so rapid and startling as to attract immediate atten- tiong it rather moves more slowly and un- steadily as it fulfills the various degrees of Achievement. The year 1928-1929 will soon be past in the history of Hackley School-only one of many which have now become but vague memories in our minds. The accurate rec- ords of those years-the records which to- gether relate the story of the progress of the School-have been presented in previous an- nuals. May the 1929 Annual be a Worthy mem- ber of that dignified series, offering in fu- ture days its particular episode of a long, interesting and very human story.

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mm THE 1929 ANNUAL behind, they heard him singing a marching song in English. They took the villageg they drove the enemy out. NeXt morning Alan Seeger lay dead. He wrote his own best epitaph in his 4'Ode In Memory of the Am- erican Volunteers Fallen for Francef' And on those furthest rims of hallowed ground Where the forlorn, the gallant charge expires, When the slain bugler has long ceased to sound, And on the tangled wires The last wild rally staggers, crumbles, stops, Withered beneath the shrapnel's iron showers :- Now heaven be thanked, we gave a few brave drops, Now heaven be thanked, a few brave drops were ours. I HAVE A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple blossoms fill the air. I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair. It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath. It may be I shall pass him still. I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes 'round again this year And the first meadow flowers appear. God knows 'twere better to be deep Pillowed in silk and scented down, Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep, Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, Where hushed awakenings are dear . . . But I've a rendezvous with Death At midnight in some flaming town, When Spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous. -Alain Seeger. Page nine

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