Jefferson High School - Monticello Yearbook (San Antonio, TX)

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5 'KW 1 , A L 2 f Q my M ml JSP v Photograph by Alex F Ramsay, '49 MONTICELLO Statt Visits the Alamo Brought to the Alamo by a mutual interest, our Annual's dedi- cation to the sacred shrine, and hunger for more knowledge ot the immortals ot the Alamo, MONTICELLO Staff members and assistants listen intently as Miss Fowles, gracious custodian, tells about a ritle recently presented to the- Alamo, one of great interest because ot the uBetsy rifle ot David Crockett tame.

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THE SPIRIT OF THE ALAMO By Frank Ira Goodman Class of 1950 fWinner of school-wide contest for best tribute to the Alamol This ground is hallowed with their blood, These battlements still ring their cry, For here the heroes fell who scoffed at death And now can never die. Tread softly here. Here Travis drew his line across the grey stone floor And rang his challenge from the walls: All those who'll join me, step across this line. Can free men anywhere forget that stirring cry That martyred such as these and caused an epic to be born? For here the braves laid down their lives upon a line And left them there for history. lames Bowie, his body racked with fever on his cot And yet his soul unbent and proud, cried out: l'd sure appreciate it, boys, if you'd help me cross the line. Such simple Words are these and yet eternal, This is the stuff from which comes freedom. Tread softly here. And Davy Crockett, a man born free, One who died still clinging to his birthright, Calmly said: I and my Tennessee boys are here. indeed they were, and liberty had naught to fear As valor and devotion paid the price of life. O, Crockett, your struggle here was not in vain For men have freedom still and still remember you. Iames Bonham, sent to Goliad for aid, Came riding through these doors to die with his compatriots. Near these embattled stones the tyrant raised his crimson flag And swore that not a man should leave the fort alive. By this south wall, here Crockett fell, A heap of bodies by his silent breast. Here Bowie lay upon his bed And struck the shameless men Who thrust their naked steel into his helpless heart. Here Travis, pierced by shell, fell stricken to the ground. Tread softly here. Are these men dead? Oh, no! For spirits such as theirs can never die, And advocates of such a cause can never lose their voice. Their souls live on with freedom's champions And with all those who love the blessings of its name. Thou, Alamo, art no building, no time-worn mission scarred with age But a spirit, an ageless spirit made from martyrs' blood, Courage and conviction, the love of freedom and of freedoms gifts, Visions and ideals, the fear of God. Thy air is heavy with their glory. From thy walls still rings the cannon and bursts the shell And whisper the voices of the immortal dead. Tread softly here, for here their spirit reigns. PAGE 17

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