Hartford Public High School - Classbook Yearbook (Hartford, CT)

Page 11 text:

THE CHRONICLE Some know not where they wish to go, And closely hug the shore, And others simply trail the wakes Of those that go before. For days the weather is the best, From morn to setting sun, The sea is calm, the fish run well, There's work for everyone. But one fair morn, while they're at work, The wind falls, like a pall, And then they know, without a doubt, They'll strike a nasty squall. The Hsher quickly pulls his net, And starts to reef the sail, And makes all preparations ' Against the coming gale. The storm comes on-the roaring gale Gives them a fearful shock- A flash! a crash! and three small boats Are dashed against a rock! - In one boat are four fishermen Not hardy as the rest, They are no match for that wild sea, Although they light their best. From the second fated boat, VVhich crumbled like a leaf, One man alone is saved, and he A coward and a thief. He takes the only dory there, Knocks down his weaker mates, And rows himself away from harm, And leaves them to their fates. .A

Page 10 text:

:350 THE CHRONICLE C19IA1RMAN,s ADDRESS Ladies and Gentlemen: S ITH each recurrence of this glorious month of June comes Class Day, the clay of days upon which the Seniors review all the pleasant memories and associations of their High School life. So, with joyous spirits and a feeling of great good-will toward all, we are now together as a class about to enjoy a social hour for the last time as Seniors of the dear old Hartford High. To our beloved kinsmeng i To our officers and teachers, beloved, too, To our kind friendsg I extend to you one and all, in the name of the Class of Nineteen Hundred Fourteen, a most cordial and sincere Welcome. JOHN PooLER HARIXISON, JR. :- CLASS POEM The night is dark-the tide is high, A dense grey fog hangs low, Along the shore of Newfoundland The lights flash to and fro. The fishers hurry to their boats, There's joy in every heart, They hoist the sails, the lines are taut, 'Tis time for them to start. And so, resolved to do their best, Each sure his luck will be The best of all the fishermen, The boats start off for sea. Some to the north, and south, and east, Still more out toward the west, For each one lays his course where he Thinks luck will be the best.

Page 12 text:

1. A. THE CHRONICLE Aboard the third boat on the rocks, Is seen a group of men NVho think of home, and those whom they May never'see again. Two of their group have perished, and They feel a giant wave Grind their boat beneath them, and They call on God to save. VVhen-see! there! coming toward them, As in answer to their call, They spy a tiny fishing boat, That comes to save them all. It's coming nearer, nearer still, In spite of dashing wave, And now it's reached their boat-oh, Thank God! for they are saved. Pk Pk :oc if :sf :of The night is gone, the storm has passed, 'Tis early in the morn, The beach is filled with village folk, From watching, tired and worn. Each has his fears, yet hope still fills The heart of everyone, W'hen, suddenly, dark sails are seen. Against the rising sun. And thro' the day, and all the night The workers come ashore, Not eighty joyous fishermen, But only sixty-four. Some bring back cargoes rich in fish, And others none at all, ' lvhile some come in with tattered sail That tells of harmful squall.