Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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Editorial have grown, tlie graduating class, from puny insignificant freshmen through the intermediate stages of the sophomore and junior years unto our present lofty position as graduating seniors. From an unorganized mob of children we have gradually evolved into a unified body of sympathizing mem- bers. Particularly during the past year We have formed closely knitted friend- shi])s. q desire to maintain t ' jiese comradeships through the days to come for they are too precious to break off abruptly. These thoughts bring to mind the stereotyped expression “the parting of our ways.” After all in the true sense of the thing, however, are we all to choose different ])aths? To our mind, it is only now at graduation that we com- mence to tread the real road of life. To use a different example this is not the jumping-off but the diving-in place. We have not been treading the main road together and do not now face the prob- lem of choosing which fork of the road ahead to take. Rather is it our concep- tion that through our ha])]jy years of school together we first trod the narrow paths, then the beaten trails, and now reach the i)oint where our recently travelled side road turns into the broad iiighway ,of the world’s progress. T do not take different directions but merely follow the trend of travel l)y va- rious routes of travel. Our destination is the same although our time and means of arrival be unlike. Before us, like the Star of the Wise Men, there gleams the ever receding glow of glorious Success ! As we pass along in our destined place in the race of the living let us peer over the heads of the common])lace confusion of the throng, or out of our ])rivate car, or down from the cock-j)it of our air- craft, as the case may vary with the circumstance and seek to single out and recognize some friend of our memorable days together as the class of 1927. CUB STAFF 1928 Editor-In-Chief, Richard Durham, ’28; Business Manager, Peter Gonis, ’28; Ad- vertising Manager, Robert Elwell, ’28; Literary Editors, Mary Patch, ’28, Al- thea Howe, ’28, Barbara Damon, ’29; Art Editor, Dorothy Dunn, ’29; Social Editor, Elizateth Gove. ’28; Reporters. Ruth Beals, ’29, Edward Dolan, ' ?, 0 ; Alumni Editor, Thelma Bailey. ’28; Ath- letic Editor, Norman Baxter, ’29; Ex- change Editor, Ruth Arthur, ’28. TIGER STAFF 1927

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AT THE CROSSROADS You to the left and I to the right, h ' or the ways of men must sever — And it well may be for a day and a night, And it well may be forever. But whether we meet or whether we part (For our ways are past our knowing), A ])ledge from the heart to its fellow heart On the ways we all are going! Mere’s luck ! For we know not where we are going. Whether we win or whether we lose With the hands lhat life is dealing. It is not we nor the ways we choose But the fall of the cards that’s sealing. There’s a fate in love and a fate in fight. And the best of us all go under — And whether we’re wrong or whether we’re right, We win, sometimes, to our wonder. Here’s luck ! That we may not yet go under ! With a steady swing and an open brow We have tramped the ways together. But we’re clasping hands at the cross- roads now In the Fiend’s own night for weather ; And whether we bleed or whether we smile In the leagues that lie before us The ways of life are many a mile And the dark of Fate is o’er us. Here’s luck ! And a cheer for the dark before us ! You to the left and I to the right. For the ways of men must sever. And it well may be for a day and a night And it well may be forever ! But whether we live or whether we die (For the end is past our knowing), Here’s two frank hearts and the open sky. Be a fair or ill wind blowing! Here’s luck ! In the teeth of all winds blowing. Richard Hovey.

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9 ' ir 7 i 0 LITERARY OEPARWNT 6 S V o MUSIC Tlie tall stately poplars and beautiful green maples, which lined the shaded street, swayed lightly while their leaves rustled gently in the soft breeze. A blue stream with its smooth white peb- bles gurgled slowly along, and the yel- low golden-rod nodded its head, as if realizing the splendor of this autumn day. Along tlie road, unmindful of everything, comes a man who at)t)ears at first to be rather old and then upon scrutinizing him further one understands that it is not age, but care that has so advanced his years. Wdio can this strange-a])j)earing, dififident man be? — Why, it is James Blake, wdio ran away from home twelve years ago and whose family, formeily one of the most wealthy of that town, now had been reduced to ])Overty because all of their riches had l)een ex])ended in searching for this lost son. As he walks carelessly along, he sud- denly glances up and sees the church, the same old, gray, vine-clad edifice that he had attended as a boy. His next move- ments are unusual, almost those of a crazed ])erson. He stops, starts to run, and then hesitates, looks at his hands, mox ' ing his fingers oddly, and finally races, with all ])ossible s])eed, to the church door.. Again he halts, and iion- ders, as if wondering whether he dares darken the doors of this sacred place, and then slowly enters. Ide advances. almost fearfully, toward the organ, seats himself, and, quietly at first, he touches his fingers to those worn keys which res])ond in a tone that only an artist could jiroduce. After playing various measures of hymns which came to his mind, he commenced Handel’s “Largo,” one of the most familiar and best loved organ jiieces in the world. In the fallen dowm house, just in the rear of the church, a woman praying for her son, heard the strains of this mas- terpiece coming to her like a message over the air. “Wy son! Wy son!” she cried, hurrying to the place of worship — and u])on seeing him knelt down by the altar, weeping and murmuring, “Thank God! The “Largo” which had begun so beau tif 11.11 V was not finished that dav. Elizabeth Glover, ’27. IN A TEA CUP Between two beautiful, old fashioned gardens there could be found a high gate which should have been the means of an intimate relationship between Airs. Wdlson and Aliss Hammond.. Yet this gate had been only a barrier for some weeks, ever since a silly quarrel of these one-time friends. Both women were lonely and longed for the former companionship, but ]:)ride jirohibited each from making the first advances toward reconciliation. Airs. Wilson, however, had a curious char- acteristic which eventually brought hap- 8