Hamden Hall Country Day School - Perennial Pine Yearbook (New Haven, CT)

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ll A HEARTBREAKING SCINE ' A shrill siren screamed piercingly. Instantly there arose a loud hum of voices and shuffle of feet, as many people hurried toward the nearest air raid shelter. The steady monotonous drone of swiftly approaching bombers filled the sky, and the powerful searchlights played across the heavens, searching for the destructive planes, which would soon be dropping their deadly missiles on the helpless town. ' The air raid shelter was dimly lighted, crowded with a mass of human beings. Anger, mixed with terror and grief, was plainly written on the faces of all, as they stood listening to the outside noises and confusion going on above their heads. Frightened children clung to their mothers' protecting skirts, screaming loudly and occasionally darting glances of bewilderment at the older ones gathered around them. Sobbing mothers, unashamed of fast falling tears which continued to trickle down their pale cheeks, tried to quiet crying babies. Old men, grouped together in the dark corners chattered among themselves, shaking their heads many times in evident disapprovement, After about a half an hour or so had gone by, the all-clear signal was given, and the crowd pressed toward the exits. The sight which met their eyes as they reached the outside world was one of complete destruction, It seemed as though the whole earth was on fire, while the bright flames leapt high into the empty darkness. No bright stars twinkled cheerfully in the sky this unhappy night. The small town was now one of absolute ruin. Many grieving people stood watching their beloved homes and ' belongings go up in smoke. The faces of all were stained with tears, and many of these were still falling fast. Even the faces of the oldest men and women showed signs of tears. The main streets of this town were now cluttered with large, heavy rafters and crumbled stone. The buildings, which had once stood along one street, majestically towering above all, were now nothing but black charred frames. Smoking ashes were all that remained of the small cottages which had been located just outside the city gates. Flowers which had once bloomed proudly in the morning sun, now withered and drooped their sunny faces, as if grieving. Gardens, which would have given forth many good things to eat, were now all destroyed by the fire. Marilyn Dewoif, vis A kind deed here and kind thought there will make a generous soul. And everyone will point out where Unselfish deeds unroll. To care for others and to see Their feelings are not nurt will be in keeping with this plea Of being all alert. Betsy Behre, '45

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THE PINE TREE I watched the pine tree as it swayed And the graceful motions that it made. Its boughs bent almost to the groundg Its limbs with silver snow were gowned. Its shadows lay upon the snow Covering the ground with a purplish glow. But the wind began howling its merciless call I feared the lovely tree might fall. The branches were now drooping low The storm raged on, a merciless foe. Can the stately pine tree stand the storm, Or will it lose its stately form? will its everlasting beauty die, Or will it always stand on high? The raging storm was at its worst I But the tree still stood as it did at first, Its branches were dancing with the howling wind And it bore the storm, steadfast and grim At last the wind was calming down, The branches were lifting from the ground. The pine tree then stood in the silence of night Still the same beautiful picturesque sight. Joan Peugeot '44 ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT The soft tranquility of night has taken possession of the earth. All humanity is resting, yet the world moves onward. Down at the depot the watchman hears the steady tick, took, tick, took of the station clock. Through the window comes the humming melody of the swaying pines. The barking of Sam's dogs arises from the other side of town. A small eerie yelp, then a fierce bark pene- trates the silence of the night. At eleven-thirty sharp the night express rumbles noisily through the station. For one whole minute the earth shakes with noise. Directly after this loud outburst the world is left in such a stillness, the scratching of the watchman's pen fills the room. But soon a hoot-owl in the nearby woods sends a piercing note through the sleepy air. His comrade, the wolf, begins to howl. Perhaps her young have gone astray! Yet the bleating of sheep soon signifies that she is disturbing the innocent. An unknown crash awakes the watchman from his early morning dreams. He begins to pace the noisy floor, each creak resounding like a cannon shot. As dawn draws near the fowl begin to awaken and sing. The morning shift of men arrive as the old church bell in the tower tolls out loudly seven times--her worthy job of telling all it is seven and all is well. Harriet C. Mack, '43