Luther Burbank Middle School - Genius Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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THE PHANTOM SHIP An old ship rolls out on the sea With big waves breaking on her leap She rolled in glory years ago, From the sunny South to the icy fioe. The phantom sailors on her ghostly decks, With misty canvas and powder peeks, And the big, high canvas a-swishing, For the tune of the waves, the decks a-washing Oh, never will I ever forget that trip, When we saw the ghostly Phantom Ship: And when my children are on my knee, I'll tell them about that trip to sea. Edgar Wiley, B8 - LORD OF THE ALLEY Old Tom is the lord of the alley: No others dispute this right, For they know he can always sally Forth ready to start a fight. Now he parades up and down the fence A-singin' with all his might. From a window an angry voice comes hence, Are you gonna' be yawlin' all night? A shoe comes whistling thru the airg Old Tom is stopping his rally, But as he slinks away to his lair, He knows he's still lord of the alley. Bob Harmon, A9 -:'l00 THE SAME The same wind blows now through the trees 'That blew o'er pirates of old. The same sun climbs up in the sky That shone on knights so bold. The same moon lends its lighting beams As shone so long ago. The earth still goes round and round- The same God keep it so. Margaret Key, A9

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THE HERMIT 'Way off in the Woods, away out of sight, An old hermit stays by day and by night. He has a long gray beard and the raggedest clothes Yet sometimes he sits all day and sews. Iknow not why he stays there in the wood When the outside world is so great and so good. Yet there are some folks, I guess it is known, That can't get along unless they're alone. But I'll leave the old hermit alone in the wood, And I'll stay outside in the world so good. Sam Wilson, A9 - M I THE PHANTOM SHIP The-night was dark and stormy, And the waves the silence crashed, When out of the mists a ship arose, Her sides by the Water lashed. Her phantom sails hung ghostly Like shrouds in the sullen breezeg She sailed on, on into the mists, On to the unknown seas! Mary Smith, B9 - G0?r- OUR RESTING PLACE I love the golden sun so bright: ' It seems to shine for all that's right. I love the hills so stately, grand, Reaching out to embrace the land. Thedesert, too, has charm for me, Its blistering heat, its mystery. I The great Pacific, calmest ocean, How it comforts with its rhythmic motion. So, though I roam the U.S.A., I'll come back home, I know, alway, To California, the 'Golden West',- God made it for a place of rest. - Rodna Hildebrand, B9

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THE LEGEND OF MIRAGE VALLEY A dusty caravan rumbled along the wheel-worn trail. The heat was intolerable. It was reflected from a midday sun shining down from a clear sky. The unshod oxen moved slowly. Inside the wagon a man and his wife and two stalwart lads sat, sweltering with the heat. They were all that was left of six caravans which had broken away from the main party. Far to the south the snow-capped mountains could be seen. The water was gone, it had been gone for two days. None of the small band expected ever to reach its destin- ation. . Suddenly, the man shouted, Look! Other members of the party strained their weary eyes. A surge of hope rushed through the tired, careworn bod- ies. Water! Water! The little group pushed forward. The sun no longer seemed hot. The sands were dry no longer. The only thought was of the water towards which all eyes were turned. As suddenly as it had appeared, the water vanished. Hope was gone as quickly as it had come. The little party was doomed. The years rolled by: summer and winter left their effect upon the remains. More years passed by, and a pair of weary traveleres in a rickety Ford came chugging along the dusty road that lead across the dessert. They were both young, dusty, and travel worn. Canteens were hung from the sides of the car. The car stopped, and the men stepped out. There ought to be water here, somewhere, said one. Yep, replied the other. There had. . The men in the act of pulling 'out their picks, uncovered some bleached bones,presumably those of oxen. And as they dug down for the water, they came upon more bones, those of human beings. Later they came upon the rusted parts of an old wagon. When one of the men had dug to the depth of about four feet, he shouted, Here is water, closer than we thought. A while later on, as they were resting, they surveyed the bleached bones. It's queer, the digger said, how people can get so close to something and l'1Ot know it.', Kenneth Burnham, A9 ' czoeczz- EVENING IN THE DESERT Evening in the desert is a most delightful thingg It always seems so restful and so inspiring. Ilove the queer old Joshua trees, That like guardian angels stands - Around our camp, upon the mounds, And o'er the billowing sands. First, you hear the lonely coyotes, And then the birds of night. Evening on the desert is a world full ofdelight. Doris McMurray, A9