Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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THE ARGUS . with the sparkle of genius, and then mocked, llaughed at him? Now all through life he will remember that for a brief lhlour he was famous-but 'twas only for a brief hour. His eager lips have quaifed one draught of the brimming cup of inspiration, and then the cup has been dashed to the ground by a cruel hand, while he blindly gropes for it in the dark. And the werel- woman laughs. Can this be true? you ask. Ah, strange things happen in the moonlight. Draw clloser around the fire and let us have another story, ene' the light goes out and we are left in dark- ness. - Hilda Abel, Ag7. illrinarh Oft I remarked how many number those, Who starting in the race lhlave failed to gain Their longed for goalg whuo spite the.ir work and pain, And ever toiling upward, at the close Learn all too late he does not reap who sows - For in its mercy Fate will still restrain Each man, leisft fhe all glory should attain.- !! Are they then fools to try since thus it goes? So did I cry and swift my answer came: To win or lose is but the smallest part To those the players in lthis mighty game. Content are they with only their own art, Content are they witfhout the crown of fame., If but they rise in their own mind and heart. Leah Jonas, A7 31

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THE ARGUS Mg Brother My brother's home from college now, And he has grown so tall- He knocks against the chandelier That's hanging in the hall! ' My voice is very small and shrill, But his is gruff and deep: And he smokes Camel cigarettes- And snores when he's asleep! He wears a belted Norfolk coat, A green Fedora hat- And he puts suet on his hair To make it lie down flat. He plays the Ukelele, too! And all fthe girls flock 'round him: And when he does the latest steps- The fellows want to pound him! I 'don't believe there's anything My brother doesn't know: Why, he can take a frog apart, To see what makes ift go! My brother speaks live languages, And reads 'em when they're dead: I don't see how he carries all His knowledge in his head! In History, he knows lots of things I never heard at all- That Caesar crossed the Rubicon, And France was once called Gaul.. . .. But I know something he can't find In any musty book- Thazt fairies sail in curly leaves, Adown our little brookg And when the new moon paints the glade With trembly silver light, They dance in rings, until the sun Has chased away the nightg And that in Winfter, when the snow Has covered up the ground, St. Nicholas comes to our house, And never makes a sound- But fills my stocking to the top, From a huge, bursting pack He carries down our chimney-Hue Upon his sturdy back ............ So, sometimes,-when the twilight comes, I hear my brother sigh, When lilacs brush against the porch, And bees hum slowly by,- And Mother takes me on her lap, In the big wicker chair, And I can lean my face against Her honey-colored hair ........ At dusk,--my learned brother thinks That he would like to be What he can never be again,-- A little boy,-like me! MARY FRANCES LINDSLEY, Ag-1 33