Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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JUNE The month of June is here again Arrayed in shimmering green And as we stroll o’er dusty roads Gay blossoms can be seen A-nodding in the gentle breeze. With faces bright and cheery To welcome each and every one The sprightly and the weary. Within a nest in a treetop high Three birdlets, snug and warm, Are fed by a busy mother bird And kept from every harm. The father bird, in coat of red; Sings sweetly, “Cheer, oh Cheer!” His golden throat sends out the words For one and all to hear. Yes, June is here! Let all be glad And heed the robin’s song; Go smiling through the sunny days, For the right stand true and strong. For sunny days bring sunny smiles And sunny smiles bring cheer. While each and all of us agree June’s the best time of the year. RICHARD RALPH, 1921. DIFFICULTIES IN ENGLISH What shall I write about? Poems aren’t in my line, But I’ll have to write one, Or the teacher’ll give me mine. I don’t want my walking ticket! I want a poem instead ! If I worry much more about it I’ll have a pain in my head! I wait for an inspiration, Which doesn’t seem to come. While I sit and wonder and wonder My lesson should be done ! The trouble that teacher’s causing! If she knew how it bothered us, I wonder if she’d not relent And not cause such a terrible fuss? Well — I’ll just have to face her. And receive my walking card. Why does that English teacher Give lessons so awfully hard? EMMA HALEY, 1921. THE IPSWICH RIVER 0 this is the winding Ipswich river, Flowing slowly down to the sea, Rising up in the Topsfield marshes, Ever widening on its way ’Til it disappears in the roaring sea. At first it is a narrow brook, Winding through the meadows, And through the marshes Then as it speeds on its hastening way Larger it grows Until at length With a final roar and resounding crash Over the dam it surges onto the sharp rocks below. Thence it rushes under stone bridges ’Til reaching the marshes it spreads itself Into creeks and inlets Until it becomes A maze of intricate channels. Flowing slowly along Past the white beach Out to the sea. RICHARD HODGKINS, 1921. 14

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A GHOSTLY EVENING It was our first evening in camp. All the boys were glad to be back. We were telling stories around the fire, though we did not really need the fire as it had been a very warm day. Finally someone told a ghost story and after that all the stories were about ghosts. It was a dark night ; the moon was behind a thick cloud ; the wind blew in gusts foretelling a storm ; the water of the lake beat angrily upon the shore ; the thunder boomed sullenly ; and jagged flashes of lightning stood out against the darkening sky. A particular- ly ghostly story had been told and the younger boys were really frightened. Some of us older boys, too, were begin- ning to get a little shivery. A twig snap- ped near by and our hearts almost stop- ped beating. An owl hooted far off ; in the distance a dog bayed at the moon; and in the heavy darkness we seemed t( feel airy touches on our faces and should- ers. No one spoke but each was thinking of all the ghost stories he had ever hea:u. In spite of the sultry heat we all drew nearer the fire, for it made us feel a little better to have our neighbors close beside us. The laugh of a loon rang out over the lake like the laugh of a tortured soul. Night was closing in and now we could see nothing but a wall of darkness beyond the circle of the fire, and between the peals of thunder we could hear nothing but the beating of the angry waves on the shore. We jumped at every little sound. A harmless rabbit scuttling through the bushes frightened us as if a ghest were coming. Flashes of lightning touched familiar objects with a ghostly light and seemed to intensify the darkness which followed. It was very still, except for the thunder which rumbled and roared a p ter each flash. One of the boys cried out sharply and looking where he pointed we felt our blood freeze and our hair rise. No one dared to move and all were rooted to the spot. We saw something tall, white, wav- ering, thin; and a pair of gleaming, cruel, unnatural, cold eyes. In one spot we could see the gleam of the water through it. It sighed, and again the laugh of the loon rang out over the lake. This time the sound was cold and bloodthirsty. Slowly the ghost wavered first to one side, then to the other. Just then the rain struck, and not waiting to see whether the ghost followed, we bolted for the tents to burrow into our blankets. DOROTHY SHAW, 1923. DUTIES ON THE FARM • k H- h ■ Getting up in the morning early, Almost at break of day, Straining the milk in the dairy, Turning the cows away. Washing the breakfast dishes, Dusting the parlor chairs, Roasting the meat for dinner, Making the beds upstairs. Churning the golden butter, Hunting for eg gs in the hay, Feeding the geese and the poultry, Scarce having time for play. With cheeks as red as roses, And teeth as white as pearls, This little country lassie, Is worth scores of city girls. ESTHER BISSON, 1921. 13

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LESSONS SOCIAL NEWS We have lessons in the morning, and in the afternoon; We must think while we are eating of the lessons coming soon; We have lessons after supper, which we must then prepare. Does it seem so many lessons can possibly be fair? If we’re going to the movies, we must our English do ; If we’re going to the concert we must read our History through Or there are unknown quantities for which we have to look. How much trouble t ’would have saved us if there ’d never been a book ! If we’re invited to a party, or anything at all There’s that awful Caesar waiting with his legion still in Gaul. If we’re going to the theatre to see our favorite hero To have our conscience easy we must finish up with Nero. The piano may invite us; we may wish to sing a song But unless our French is finished, every- thing is wrong. If we sew, crochet, or knit, or do any- thing but cram We sorrowfully flunk our classes and the quarterly exam. There are lessons, lessons always, as far as I can see And though I’ve finished English there are lessons still for me. So I’ll put this little tirade in my book and out of sight Hoping hard that Mrs. Cushman will think it sounds all right. CATHERINE J. CALDWELL, 1921. The Junior Prom was held May 7 at the Red Men’s Hall. The hall was very prettily decorated in pink and grey, the class colors. The stage and the Matron’s and Punch corners were trimmed in a very effective manner. There were a number of streamers from the center of the hall extending to all the corners. The Matrons were Mrs. J. I. Horton, Mrs. I . Whipple, and Mrs. H. Brown. The Com- mittees in charge Avere : — The Business Committee — Mr. HoAvard Doughty Mr. Richard Ralph Mr. Maynard Whittier. — The Decorating Committee — Miss Ruby Earley Miss Mary Martel Miss Ardace SaA T ory. — The Invitation Committee — Miss Catherine CaldAvell Miss Katherine Reddy Miss Hilda Scales. The Avhole was supervised by the Presid- ent of the Junior Class, Mr. Gardner Brown. EXCHANGE JOKES Great Scott ! If Ivanhoed the bonnie brae And Athelstaned his tunic neAV And Friar Tucked his food aAvay Pray Avhat, oh, what, did Roderick Dhu — The Holten. (Danvers.) What we OAve to Latin. All people died Avho spoke it All people died Avho Avrote it All people die who learn it Blessed dead, they surely earn it. — High School Re Anew (Lowell.) Customer: — “Do you serve fish here?” Waiter: — “Yes sir, sit doAvn, we serve anybody.” 15