Kentucky Home School for Girls - Pandaisia Yearbook (Louisville, KY)

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CAROLYN LOUISE HART DOROTHY LEI-3 VON ALLMEN L'You write with ease to show your breeding, 'GA flattering painter who made it his care, But easy writing curs'd hard reading. To draw men as they ought to be, not as they aref, BETTY JEAN WALKER VIRGINIA QUARRIER WYIW i' HBuy my flowers, come-O buy, I pray! MMQIHY TCCCWC advice, The blind girl comes from afarf' Few Profit by it-U Eight

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RAY HIKES MARGARET LYLE SHELLEY Chairman of the Mountain Fund Bazaar Editor of Pandaisia It is to be all made of faith and service. GTO COIHPHTC Great things with smallf, TOSCA RUSSELL GARIBALDI JANET CAMPBELL GORE a'I'd rather have a fool to make me merry uFools are my theme, Than experlence to make me sad. Let Satire be my Songf, Seven

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My Companion NE day in March, I climbed a hill, a high and lonely hill, and there I met the Wind. He came to meet me running from the valley far below. We needed no in- troduction, the Wind and I, for often he had sung to me, and I knew his voice. The Wind is a youth, an eager, young man just tasting the joys of life, proud and tem- pestuous of spirit, carried away by his emo- tions, so that when annoyed or displeased, he shakes the earth in the mightiness of his rage, but like most temperamental people, he repents and atones for his hastiness by a becoming gentleness. I was fortunate in my meeting, Sir Wind was particularly charming, and sang to me in sweetest tone, and why? In the first place, February had just passed, and as everyone knows, the Wind quarrels fiercely with Feb- ruary. Then, too, Spring was beginning to gather up courage enough on sunny days to peep out on the world. Of course, you know the Wind is in love with Spring ffor who could resist her delicate charms?J and every year he woos her in his gentlest, most com- pelling manner. So on the day I met him, the Wind was happy and glad, and together, we romped and raced up and down the hills. Then, when I tired, he sang to me, and I was soothed by his musical tones. When evening came, I walked slowly home. accompanied by the Wind, and who could want a better escort? Carolyn Hart, '42 Frontiers A snapping of twigs in the vine-tangled forest, And the soft pad, pad of moccasined feet, And a low mournful bird cry, a note half human, And soft beneath them sounds of a tom- torn's beat. These are the sounds that I hear in the forest, Where white men have not yet come, A hoot-owl's crying, and a bob-whitels voice, And soft beneath them the throb of a drum-g And when blue dusk falls on azure waters, I hear the flap of a wild heron's wing And the slipping and the slapping of waves on a paddle, And the quick, short crack of a taut bow- string. The wail of a lonesome prairie wind, And the loud click-clack of booted feet, And the squeaking sound of a worn leather Saddle, And soft beneath them a sharp hoof beat. These are the sounds that I hear on the plains, Where time with slow steps moves. The rush and the bellow of a buffalo herd And soft beneath it the sound of hooves, And when the red sun sets beyond the moun- ta1n, I hear the lowing of restless cattle, And calls that echo across the vastness, And spurs and stirrups as they ring and rattle. Peggy Shelley, '42 The Magic Touch VVithout my window many things I see, And all reveal the magic touch of Spring. An oak with silky buds that soon will be Soft, feathery leaves. The swaying elms that bring With every ,green-tipped limb, the oriolesg 'Twas yesterday, first came to me the sweet, Loud call of golden orioles. The souls Of men through ages past with joy complete Have heard that song. Across the way a tree With shaggy bark and slender trunk has met The Spring's caress. Now, farther back, I see Some cherry blossoms, white and delicate, And over all, a cloudless, blue sky! And sunshine gilding every tree-top high! Carolyn Hart, '42 Nine