Lompoc High School - La Purisima Yearbook (Lompoc, CA)

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oMPoc UNIONI 21 IHIGH SCHOOL FOUR POEMS By Hazel Scolari, '25 I. The West Wind There's a sigh in the breath of the West Wind, A murmur of sorrow and woeg There's a sparkle of tears where it passes, And a whimpering soft and low. Can a soul that is free as the West Wind Find sadness and sorrow on earth? Or is freedom in life but Man's fancy?-- Was Liberty lost with his birth? For there's a sigh in the breath of lXIan's Freedom, A murmur of sorrow and woeg There's a sparkle of tears where it passes 3- Is Illusion the Freedom we know? II. I Love the Rain I love the rain. It falls and beats Against my window prettily. It looks within, and plants its cleats Into the pane to smile at me. It slips the clouds, ransoms the sun, Sends him with speed to summon me To view the raindrops, newly spun, Form jewelled patterns in the sky. I love the rain. It clings to me, Requires my love so tenderlyg It plays and softly sings to me, And kisses me. I love the rain. III. The Wreck On the shore of a fierce, surging ocean, Where the lashing winds hold sway, Battered and broken and barren, There lies a hull to-day. And few men know its story Or how it was washed to land, It once was the best of the ships of the west, But now-'tis buried in sand.

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LoMPoc UNIONI 20 IHIGH Scnool. he didn't get any points this time, Charlie would win. The leaner counted three and that would make eleven, and ten was the game. He walked up to the peg and said, Now, if I could only knock your leaner on, with my shoe on top, who would be the winner ? He threw his first shoe, it rolled over into the cow corral. You're pretty nervous, Jim, better take your time, Charlie teased. Well, it only takes one shoe to make a ringer. Beads of sweat were standing on his forehead, and looking over his spectacles, he measured the distance. He threw his second shoe, it knocked Charlie's leaner on with his on top. Slowly old Charlie walked up and slapped Jim on the back and cackled, Your good luck this time, old boy. Blanche Gilkeson. III. It was an old story for the people of Dawson City, they had known it for many years, and it was as a legend to them. They would repeat it again and again in the winter evening, how Red Mike had won and lost in the old days. lt was in the year 1894 that Michael Robinson had just settled down to busi- ness as a fruit peddler on one of the large streets, in New York. Michael was a strong, burly Norwegian. His red hair gave him the appearance of the ancient Norse gods. He had a good education, according to his class. One day in 1897, news came that gold was discovered in Alaska. Michael be- came excited by the newspapers and the gossip and decided to go in quest of gold for himself. He sold his fruit stand, and taking all of his belongings in one small suitcase, he set forth for wealth and adventure. One month later he stepped off a small boat at Nome and proceeded inland, prospecting as he went. His object was to reach the Klondike region as soon as possible. He reached White Horse in dead winter, practically exhausted 5 his food had given out in twenty days, and his thin clothing poorly protected him from the sleet and ice. He had covered eight hundred miles of barren, frozen country, many times thought impossible by old miners. Michael had good ,luck with the gold which he had found, trading it in for money. He had fifteen hundred dollars, besides the three hundred he still had from selling his property in New York. White Horse was filled with ex-convicts and thieves 3 as soon as they heard of money they went after it, and so it was in Michael's case. They came upon him one night, and after a fight which ended in Michael's defeat and their loss of two men, they got his money. Michael had his wounds treated by a physician, who was kept busy by such fights as that which had just occurred. Michael followed his robbers into their den and silenced their lips forever: and from this time on he was Red Mike to his comrades. He also found seven hundred dollars of his money, which was buried near the den. Prices were so high, at this time, that this money was of no use, and he had to go on without food or clothing in the spring. Red proceeded on his journey with a party of old miners and reached Dawson City, late in the autumn, after many disasters. He was taken down with a fever, just one week out of White Horse. Four packhorses were lost, and he was wounded again. These all led to his death, which happened the next year. -Howard Schuyler.

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L-o.M oc UNIONI 22 IHIGH SCH They say that she came for glory, For a purpose bold and strong, 'Twas Cortez or some other brave Spaniard Once bade her leap along. 'tis long that they from her departed, Only the wind walks her rail. as the ship cries, it lingers and sighs, And the wild bird flees from its wail. But And The The shore all about is deserted, Huge rocks loom forth from the deep. roll of the tide is alarming, About that dismal heap. sea breaks 'round that mournful wreck And it speaks o'er the voice of the gale, And as the wind moans and murmurs and groans Hearts quake and lips are pale. The IV. Infinity When night has dressed the seething earth In robes of deepest blue, And pinned them fast with myriad points Of dazzling fiery hueg When she has swept the dusty light ' From off the stifling earth, And blazing windows in the sky Bespeak celestial mirthg I kneel before my window sill, The altar of the skies, And waft my spirit out to play On night's low qualcing sighs. It bursts the bubble of its sphere, The prison of its mind, And leaps among the fleecy clouds To frolic with its kind. And when it comes back once again, It brings peace unalloyedg I know it's played where shining showr's Skim glinting through the void. And then I lay me on my couch To seek the Phantom Lanes, I've swept without all mortal thoughtg Infinity remains. O O 1