The Illman School - Span Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

Page 80 text:

THE ILLMAN ScHooL Pandora rows Purple, gold and deepest jade, Dull ivory, strange blue, Twist themselves in mystic Figures On the cover of the box. There it rests in regal splendor, Essence of the past and future, Bidding and forbidding Fingers. To reveal its hidden depths. Pale hands smooth its lovely lacquer Then withdraw-half timidly. What is better than a secret? Ahl That mystery unrevenled. Ikzgr S1-1'f'l115 1 x UP DOROTHY NELLIS

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THE SPAN-1932 'Giro River T HAS its beginning in many springs of bubbling, crystal clear water, this river which in the metamorphosis of its existence changes from a thing of beauty to a thing of foulness and ugliness. It is DOI a large nor a swift nor even a clear deep river but it gives the effect of a beautiful peace as it Hows almost imperceptibly along. The upper valley is not landscaped nor are there natural terraces and forests which so often are the means of lending enchantment to waterways. There are no gorgeously colored rocks or turbulent, splashing falls to startle one with their beauty because the sole loveliness of this spot lies in its almost unnatural aspect of cleanliness and sparkling freshness. The banks give the appearance of having been recently swept and dusted and the river seems to leave in its wake the, order, peace, healing power and utter simplicity which one feels upon entering a hospital. At a point farther down along this same valley one comes upon another river, no, it is the same one, but so changed as to be almost unrecognizable. The characteristics of the river and its surroundings at this point are the direct antithesis of the waters as they were in the upper valley. This change is easily comparable to the change in a human being who has grown from a beautiful and lovable baby to a hideous, mysterious, foul and deceitful monster. ln both cases the ultimate wrong has been wrought by the unthinking, careless, selhshness of human beings who call themselves respectable. The river seems here to spread ugliness and destruction in every direction. Its apparently thick surface seems to draw to it and suck in the refuse and filth of the whole city. Even the lights at night which usually add an artificial beauty to everything are dimmed by the sordidness of this deep blackness. The moon and stars although not devoid of a mellowing quality are here unable to cast the spell of their magic in its fullest extent. A thing of beauty is a joy forever, but like a beautiful woman ravaged by age the loveliness of it can be preserved only in the mind of the beholder. Each time the once beautiful thing is seen in the fulfilment of its ugliness, the image fades a little further until the thing of the past is gone and only the present remains. NANCY Gitoswtrn. Page Se1'er1Iy-five

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THE SPAN-1932 'Eben I Would fBe A Genius' If I only knew How leaves grew from dry branches, And what made people smile, And why your eyes with soul light burn At the sight of a cool, green fern. If I only knew How the sun painted the sky at evening, And what made people cry, And why you seem so far away When you climb your green hill to pray. If I only knew How flowers grew from bud to full bloom, And what made people die, And who put the stars in velvet night, And where they went in dawning light- Then I would be a genius. Donoriisx Baosczi-:ER. Page S!'l'l'lIIJ zz ri