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

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THE CHRONICLE VVas just his own age on that night. XNasn!t he the rascal though? Thought it was up to him to show Aunt Sarah how much cake could go All inside of him, you know. He laid his hand on the curly head And smoothed the round cheek moist and red, Just my age, he murmured lowg He's got lots of years to grow. Then as the lambent yellow light Broke from the shattered embers bright, Searching the room with its sudden flare, He breathed in the night his silent prayer. All for the little life of him Wliose years were yet in future dim, A hope that coming years should be Years of honor and loyalty To all that right should teach him then, Out among the world of men. Hartford High, thy faculty, All whose interest in thee Contemplates through coming time Promise of a hope sublime, When, in peaceful hours of thought, Quiet has its memories brought, Then perhaps thine earnest prayer, Breathed upon the listening air, Sometimes touches such as we, Nineteen Sixteen, child of thee. HELEN R. TOLLES How much vas dose collars ? Two for a quarter. How much for vun P Fifteen cents. i Giff me de odder vun. -Ex.

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THE CHRONICLE CLASS POEM Before the firelight's cheerful glow, His head upon his hand, He watched the smooth flame come and go, In fltful silence fannedg His silver head was tinged with gold, As though the ember's ray Had placed a benediction there To bless his closing day. NVith eyes unseeing, yet he saw Beyond the curling flameg From out the dim past voices spoke, Calling upon his name, And over three score years went by lVithin a single hour, His years, which, deep in memory, VVould never lose their power. Down the stairs with a smothered shout Bobby bounced, both hands held out, Full of cookies-sticky, too- r Smudgy cheeks and mouth all goof, Hello, grandpa. Say, don't tell Mother and all the folks and Nell- I don't want to go to bedg Can't I stay down here instead? Well, said grandpa slowly, welll Bobby echoed, Aw, don't tellf' Almost an hour passed and the clock Solemnly ticked to the armchair's rockg Silver and gold, the iirelight blessed Gently the heads together pressed. Bobby was fast asleep by now, But the old man dreamed with a wakeful brow Back o'er the years his swift mind ran, Back o'er the years. The little man Curled warmly in his arm so tight

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268 THE CHRONICLE ORATION THE TRUE PATRIOTISM fl' ROBABLY at no time in the history of our country have we been confronted with so many crises: the spectacle of the - whole outside world, fighting within itself, threatening to drag us into the whirlpool, foreign foe on every side without, endless complications and discontent within! A time when every red-blooded man takes an active interest in the affairs of his country, a time when excitement is at its highest pitch, when every selfish motive gives way to one common devotion, when love of country is at its height, when patriotism is paramount! And so it should be. Probably there is no one word in the whole language that has a greater import. Respect, honor, devotion, loyalty -all are conveyed in its meaning. An American who has no love of country does not deserve to be an American, and the man, who- ever he may be, who does not possess some feeling of patriotism is capable of no worthy emotion. But great and powerful as this sentiment may be, it bows its head, and ofttimes unwillingly, to a still greater power. Ever since the beginning of the world, and the creation of man, two primary forces have been fighting against each other. Their com- bat has raged longer and greater than any mere war that men have fought. They have raged since the creation, they will endure to the end of time. Together they form one of man's most powerful in- stincts. Beside it, almost every other is subservient. It is the primal instinct of right and wrong. And now we have-patriotism versus the instinct of right and wrong. In these two we find the greatest internal problem we have to deal with today. Should the instinct of right and wrong be sub- servient to the feeling of patriotism? Should a man, feeling that his country is absolutely wrong, nevertheless defend its policy, simply because it is his country? The people, as a whole, say yes. The level- headed thinker shakes his head-and says nothing. And the question remains logically unanswered. Patriotism needs no apology. It is a wholly natural and desirable outcome. What man can trace the glorious history of our country, throughout the centuries, and then, surveying it as it stands today,