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

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III One night, when ll stood on the seashore And counted the stars in the sky. And the moon bathed the night in its eerie white light, And the waves rolled and frolicked close by, She came booming along toward the channel, And her cross trees were leaning to lee. And she tossed her bowsprit with an impu- dent flit, In defiance to heaven and sea, - And her mizzen-mast bent 'fore the night wind, And she semed like a beautiful maid, Almost heavenly such, that no one could touch, And goddess o'er all she surveyedg And while she was riding the channel, By the light of the Si1Ve1'y night, My heart skipped a beat, as she veered from her beat, Like a butterfly caught in its flight. The moon looked suddenly ghastly, And my heart turned to lead with the grief, At seeing her quail, 'fore the breakers and gale, XVhile stranded on rock and on 1'eef. I begged that the wind cease its fury. But the wind howled a laugh at my plea. And the winds on her fell, like the demons of hell, And I, cursed at the wind and the sea. I paled when I noticed her staggerg She was doomed to a watery grave, I groaned in 1ny heart, when her masts fell apart, And I wept when she sank 'neath the waves. The moon waned away in the distance, And the night filled with darkening gloom, I stood there for long, the wind sighed a song, And the surf roared a loud chant of doom. IV Some nights, when I stand on the seashore, VVhile counting the stars in the sky, And the moon bathes the night in its mellow moonlight, And the waves roll and frolic close by, And the night wind comes in off the ocean, Screaming a tale to the shoals, And the surf beats the sand with an un- ceasing hand, And the breakers form uniformed rolls, I can still see her sweep toward the channel, With her cross trees leaning to lee, And she'll toss her bowsprit with an im- pudent flit, In defiance to heaven and sea. And her foremast will bend 'fore the night winds, And shell seem like a beautiful maid, Almost heavenly such, that no one can touch, And goddess o'er all she surveys. I can still see her face in the moonlight, VVith her hair streamed behind as she nea1's, And I'll laugh when she'll skip past the reefs with a flip, And feel lonely when she disappears. SALUTE TO MORNING By Merle Hawkes The sun reached a reluctant finger over the hill and parted the mist that hung like a filmy blanket over the valley. The small farmhouse below me, partly concealed by several truant shadows, seemed as tranquil and peaceful as a lullaby, as silent as a churchyard. Smoke from the chimney climb- ed lazily for a few feet, then disappeared into nothingness, The whole valley seemed to be wrapped in a cloak of silent waiting. Then the silence was broken, but app- ropriately indeed, by the salute of Master Rooster to a new day. As though this we1'e the maestro's signal, the grandest symphony in the world began its opening number. The frogs in the creek and the barnyard fowl seemed to be endeavouring to excel each other for the lead, and, had I been judge, I am sure I would have rewarded them equally. The early morning breeze swayed the trees in time to the music. The 17 ,liil

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g . , luv' sa -.4 .. 4 -.4 -......- -I..-J-'un nd HQ t Q. Jag.. V, tk. 3 v I , D' Iii. '15, I f, if 'lib 1 : :L K 1 . A sf - Y - jg R i A ' 5--iw f I g lx t- 5 if J X - I 4 A l - -. ll Z S ' elim ' cf-.Baffin LOVE OF THE DEEP II By Harrison Kinney I One night. while 'I stood on the seasliore And counted the stars in the sky. And the moon bathed the night in an eerie white light. And the waves rolled and frolicked close by And the night wind came in off the ocean Screaming a tale to the shoals. And the surf beat the sand with an unceasing hand. And the breakers formed uniformed rolls She came booming along toward the channel, And her cross-trees were leaning to lee. And she tossed her bowsprit with an impudent flit. In defiance to heaven and sea. Her mizzen-mast bent 'fore the night wind. And she seemed like a beautiful maid. - Almost heavenly such. that no one could touch. And goddess o'er all she surveyed. She skipped past the shoals and the reefers XYith silvery white foam at her line: Her form 'gainst the moon. she was gone all too soon, And I was alone with the brine. How oft would I stand on the seashore. XVaiting until she Game by. XX'hen the moon bathed the night in her silvery lifcght. And the waves rolled and frolicked close by! She was a daring. bold sniuggler. But I loved every line. sail, and brace. How she'd gracefully roll in the moon's silver glow, And laugh at the wind in its face! Long hours I'd wait on the seashore, Till l'd see my love of the sea, And always she'd bound past the reefs of the sound XYith wings spread in impudent glee. She seemed like a girl I had dreamed of: How I loved my ideal of the sea, And when she'd fly by. on the crests riding high, Make believe she was smiling at me! I could see her face tilted to heaven, And the wind fanned her cheeks as she neared. And I'd laugh when she'd skip past the reefs with a flip. And feel lonely when she disappeared.

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THE ENGLISH CLUB High rank in English, parties' gold pins. cows filled in occasionally with their bass p1'otest. And even a squirrel chattered his appreciation of their talent. The sun rose higher still, and the small- est shadows were sent on their way. All of nature seemed to be present to welcome this glorious summer morning. And well it might, for the utter beauty of simplicity covered all. WHAT THE MILKMAN SEES By Carol Gardner The milkman sees the world from an unusual point of view. His friends are street cleaners, policemen, truck drivers, night- watchmen, and janitors. He scrambles fI'0lll his bed when the alarm rings two o'clock. The cows. of which there are many, are milked by milking machines. About the time he starts to deliver the fresh milk, day is breaking, His truck is a modern white machine with no seat, so that he can jump out more quickly. He delivers in small, dingy hall- ways, large estates, hotels, and restaurants. He encounters society people on unsteady feet, dressed in tails, top hats, and 9l'lIlIll6 wraps. Next, while riding through the park, shabbily dressed people stir beneath piles of newspapers on benches. He has a friendly chat with all his friends. VVhen his work is about finished, thous-- ands of men and women are just going to work. He returns to the milk farm about nine o'clock or earlier, where a dozen or so similar trucks are returning from differ- ent parts of the city. and goes to bed in the afternoon. SCENE ON THE COAST By Barbara Somerville Seated on a huge barnacled rock on a point of land which jutted out into the ocean, I watched with fascination the large breakers rolling in. The waves. large and white-capped, seemed to be running a fast and furious race to see which could reach shore first, As I watched these breakers, I noticed that some were larger than others. Instantly I thought of the old saying, Every ninth wave is the largest. Remem- bering this, I picked out the largest wave and began counting from that one. It seem- ed to me that the old adage was true. Glancing out to sea, l could barely dis- cern the outlines of several large islands.