High School of Music and Art - Recolte Yearbook (New York, NY)

Page 36 text:

How for clay together, to feel the softness of the stieet that noicis the darkness as they steep. and Fingers With moans they hear the grasses dying while white the moon Iceeps the night with softness holding still heads of childrens close curls lying knotted tightly in their sleep Filled fright now wtiite lights stir the black of night. ,-fjffff ' Susan SIIHWII R35 E illustrated by Sue Rosen

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E Q i Z P i ff llll f ixfiusic is time meciiator between time spiritual and tile sensual life. 1 Although the spirit be not master of that which it creates through M Q , music, yet it is blessed in tiiis creation, which iiice every Creation 'V it H 31 .N W at i ka ' A s of art is migiatier than the artist. BEETHOVEN E' b , x, - x I f - f 1 i , 'Q is ii it 3. 1 i 5 it .t it ? 15 3 .-Q ' 2 is 'I L5 , aiss 2 2 1 LL , ni ' ' , W O' jug gal 1 I .112 1 ' ,Z Ii .A i , f 15. U'-1 ' - l lg. ,, 4 A ga ' -,B , f U, . . . . ,, 7-a f prmt by Irwin Glelberman , 4 f 3 Xi X it 'yffii 1 Y- . fi WEL S 3mm .flrneymos and Grozms , f gag e -,L t, i 1 ,' J., Q i 7 . ' ' ifi xxsx' ' H ' e N sun Senior umwsrm f i , I , z f ' l'iiJif'5e - A tiff! fi? E fy fl ' ' L Q 9 - if., 4-- l! 't N, X ' F'

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Sea Song Yesterday, Xfvlien tlze slay spread tlzin on the sea, Xve sat at tlte elnlv: Xvatctied the tide rear lnrealz waters, Saw opal mussels cling to rocles, Heard iron black gangs. Yesterday, When the sea-iced wind blew sand Against wind worn rocles, Anal lnent the grass, Vve sat at the eoln, watching. Yesterday, When the fislierfolk spoke sad Songs of deatlz, And wild as sea-whipped wind, We ran oacla, singing. ere-ffm' . X ' . K iff t six ff ' J, ,gg.,Q,.,,,3,5.A,f53y.syzfgywu,V , rpms-,,.y, ,.,53g+f,,fS. -,A-, v - r - li' -- M 1- f r wwQ5p,.f1sv'nf:, .5-s . swarms sy?5if,:tzf::ff14fk U s A '1- s X 1+.e.i5tff9,t.,,1:.f ffiii'-fffi. , i . Lois I. Cassen lworning Song For you the dream. F or me tlie waleing To winter cold Frost on Pigeon-spattered panes And city oricle-dark ln frozen day. Life-cold, I by-pass myrrli And cloves of sleep To awaken The morning to me. For you the dream. F or me tlie walaing. No fragile lace gliding Softly on marble floors ln yesterday. But scratcliing woolen Today. F or me. For you tlie dream. Louise Sorkin