Houlton High School - North Star Yearbook (Houlton, ME)

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- -.. Close of Day By Merle Hawkes The silent hush of that interval when night and day seem to intermingle in dusky greeting is pervading the atmosphere. A few eager frogs are croaking their joyous welcome of the lengthening shadows cast by the nearby foothills. The trees by the side of the dusty, travel-worn road stand like giant sentinels, guarding the unknown. The brook close by the road glides by with fre- quent sighs like a careworn traveler who, having gone far and seen many sights, is glad of the seclusion and rest of night. A peasant walks wearily up the road, glancing neither to right nor left as he nears the small village. A gleam of anticipation lights his eyes and gives a firmer swing to the tired arm holding the heavy tools, as a turn in the road brings into view a small white cottage with a single dim light gleam- ing in the window. He looks at the darkening hills and the lowering sky, and a feeling of supreme thankfulness makes his steps lighter. A feeling of accomplishment lightens the bur- den of the scythe and rake on his shoulder, for had he not cut many bushels of wheat today? The wind, rustling the leaves of the trees, seems to murmur its agreementg and the departing day leaves behind its benedic- tion of peace. The Sea By Lawrence Tilley The blue rolling swells of waves that loom high and foreboding in the foreground, and the silent, endless waters of the sea roll- ing away in the distant, hazy horizon, seem to vibrate with a sense of immense depth and mighty power. This whole world of water stops for no finite man or unending time, but rolls on in silent majesty. VA huge wave, rising up, pointing its white tip at the sky and then sinking swiftly back to the sur- face, emphasizes the irresistible strength of the sea. Each tiny ripple and white spray of foam, riding on these immense swells, re- flects the completeness and perfection of the ocean in its simplicity. The cloud-studded sky seems to hang low over the sea, and its gray billows float along with the waves and disappear with them behind the horizon. Beneath this seething and ever-moving water, all is calm, peaceful, and dark. Its quiet is never disturbed by the upper rest- lessness, and its gloom is never brightened by the noonday sun. All is dismal, but all is vast and infinite. Thrill of a Lifetime By Gerald Gardner As the sun slowly sank behind the dis- tant ridges and the shadows were growing long, a lone hunter paddled slowly over the red, glassy surface of a lake. He was very tired and a little disappointed from a long day's hunt, which had brought him no bigger game than a lone duck. As the hunter push- ed his light canoe around a marshy point, his heart jumped, for there, on the opposite side of the point, silhouetted against the evening sky, stood a huge bull moose. He was, indeed, a king among the mighty monarchs of the forests. Veteran though he was, the hun'ter's hands shook a little as he slowly raised his rifle to his shoulder. He easily picked up, on his sights, a vital spot- just behind the shoulder. As his finger eas- ed back on the trigger, he thought of the glory that would be his when he showed that mighty head to his friends. As the report of the rifle rang out across the lake, the huge bull sank slowly to his knees, and then fell on his side and lay still in the shallow water. The canoe shot madly ahead, and the hunter, all fatigue forgotten, paddled furi- ously around the point to where his prize lay dead. Sunset By Mary Terrio What could be more beautiful than the sunset? Its many beautiful rays of red and blue shine on the many lakes and trees and mountains. Just before darkness, we see it shining in all its splendor. Sometimes it seems almost as if the sky were on fire. The bright red, flame-like rays seem to pierce the earth. The, trees reach up to touch the rays, the bright green contrasting very beautifully with the gold and red. How fortunate we are to have such a. work of art in Nature!

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srfwx-sg xx xw : 'Fa X YT sighs! ag If SQ Wllllll ,Q ,f mfg, , g x,.,.f 2 T 10,110 0,11 1 ,411 111 :nuff Ulla lglflj N5 f ' x. - f . Q: K . I . gt L - , ef 4 XX . '-.,-.,- v, Q, I '-.,,, F -,N-,,l fs., 2-n.,,,1 Wa., fu 1'-f 2' j Sailboat in the Moonlight By Vernon Titcomb Beneath the skies at anchor lies A craft with ribs of steel, And SIl6,S the p1'ize of boats her size From mast to stern to keel. Against the moon her figure looms As ghostlike as can beg She stays so still almost at will Upon the silvery sea. Many nights the harbor lights Have shone on Rosalie, She's as pretty a sight with her sails so white As ever sailed the sea. The tide has turned while the moonlight burns Almost as bright as dayg She'll slumber on till the coming dawn Shall break across the bay. The River at Sunset By Barbara Perry It was warm a11d fragrant that evening, as I stood on the soft green moss at the river's edge. Behind me we1'e many stal- wart fir and spruce trees sending delicious and spicy odors to my nostrils. Over the tranquil waters of the sparkling river came the last rays of the dying sun. As the fluffy Clouds sailed over it. they seemed miraculously changed from plain white to pale rose, deep gold, orchid. a11d flaming red. Then, as I glanced again at the river, I could see all of the beautiful clouds mirrored ill the depths of it. What a beautiful sight! Farther up the river could be heard the low ripple of the water swirling over some larger pebbles. In the sky, the sun slowly emerged from under the clouds in a flaming red ball. A minute later, it was gone. The river turned into a black, fathomless pool. and the trees stood like black sentinels in the dusk. I shivered as I turned slowly away. My Winter Companion By Ruth Dibblee I have the jolliest comrade that you ever did see. How I could get along without him. now that we are once acquainted, is more than I can tell! Yes, you've guessed aright. Itfs my annual winter cold that lasts till June. He's quite an artist, too. 'though I don't believe he ever studied in Paris. He wields his little brush with a surprising dexterityg and. presto-chango, before you know it, you have the most enhancing nose that has yet been created. He's very amusing. VVhy. he wheezes and grunts and sniffles until everybody is laughing behind my back. But his amusing qualities cease to be a joke when mother brings out all the remedies that grand- mother ever knew. Sometimes, when I'm bundled in bed and, not pnrspiring, but just sweating, I wish we'd never met. But what caps it all is when a long-awaited show comes to town and I have to stay at home to entertain my little friend! Then, when spring again sweeps into our little town, what sweet sorrow parting is! But always to be remembered is the fact that. next winter, we shall probably meet again.

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The Planter By Merle Hawkes He reaps in joy, who sows in toil Throughout the fruitless years 3 A boundless wealth is his whose seed Is planted in his tears. A thousand banners mark the mound Where lies the earth's creation: A thousand tongues acclaim his hope, The building of a nation. Can this nation stand erect Without a granite pillar? Can we reach the coveted goal Without the muscled tiller? Then let us fight and live and learn, From na.ture's own rough hand, The lesson of good will and trust, In him whose life is land. To Write a Poem By Gerald Gardner When poets start to write a poem, They must have lots of time: They must think about their meter, Their story, and their rhyme. I haven't any meter, I haven't any rhymeg But there is one thing I've plenty of, And that one thing is time. It surely would be easy To write a poem for you, If I could tell a story Of something that was new. But since I can't think of a thing To write about for you, I'1l stop this poem now and hope That what I've done will do. l..-. i Policeman: Imagine a young boy like you, J. Boutilier, so drunk that you have to keep your arms around a telephone pole to keep yourself up. J. Boutllier: I'm not drunk. I was just seeing if I could get my arms around this telephone pole, because if I can I know that I'll be able to get them around Alice tonight. Autumn By Jack Carroll In time of years when summer wanes, And fallen leaves flood wooded lanes, When mellow moonlight casts its gleam 0'er golden field and wandering stream, Then let me roam through silent night, And watch the clouds in silvery flight. In time of year when summer Wanes, And kind earth yields her precious grains When through the Indian summer skies, The fleeing robin southward flies, Then let me roam through hill and dale, In search for Autumn's flaming grail. In time of year when summer wanes, And sky's clear blue the sunset stains, When drifting clouds of crimson hue Float listlessly in velvet blue, Then let me watch the sunset rays - Fade into evening's purple haze. In time of year when summer wanes, And southbound birds sing sweet refrains, When dying plants their pollen drop, From whence shall come October's crop, Then let me tread the fresh turned sod And silently commune with God. Reflections By Wlnnifred Sanderson I open the eastern window That faces toward the sung I hear the singing swallows And the brooks of morning run. The moon is shining brlghtlyg The sky is clear and blue. I hear the singing swallowsg They sing to me of you. Your eyes are like stars of morning, Your lips like a crimson flower! Good night! Good night! beloved, While I count the weary hours. Our English teacher's trying hard Of us, to poets make: Sorry to disillusion him, But I am just a take. -Margaret Smith