Manchester High School - Somanhis Yearbook (Manchester, CT)

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24 SOMANHIS - MAIN STREET Two walk tonight on Main street, ' Two saunter up and down, And see the souls on Main Street, - From all this livlng town. Men hurry by on Main Street, Menwalk with paces slow, But two look deep in human hearts, However men may go. This man walks with gladness, This man walks with pain, And here is one whose llte ls done, Who'll never walk again. And here is youth that strolls with age, Their poverty slips by, And riches stride with foolish pride, And wisdom wonders why. Some bw a ring on Main Street, Some buy a nower- brave, A baby's cap, a wedding dress, A llly for a grave. Oh, all the world's on Main Street, They're strolling up and down, While life and death linked arm in arm, Are looking atthe town. Margaret Quinn, '31 WHY ? In the early dawn the sun shone bright. The Farmer came out to emloy the sight Ot his growing crops-his ilelds of grain That would dll hls cellars and bins again. At noon the sky was overcast The early dawn was too bright to last. The winds arose, the lightning flashed, The peace and quiet was quickly past. The rain fell fast, and with it hall It made the Fa.rmer's face turn pale, The wind blew through the corn and grain- In partnership with the driving rain: The hall cut into the crops like shears 'Twas the worst storm he had seen for years. That night the Farmer in his prayer thought To answer the question, What hath God wrought? What are these forces which he employs That work to build up, and yet destroy? Arthur Gallnat, '34 THE THROES OF COMPOSITION I used to think that one could write On any inclination. But now I ilnd that it requires A special inspiration. You might slt down and think tor hours On some distinct creation. 1 - Or a new literary style Of your origination. But even though the pen and lnk Awalt ln expectation Your words and phrases seem to be In a state of complication. You thumb the dictionary till Your hand's in agitation. You won't give up, it almost has Become an obligation- You've got to write a story that Will be the consummation Of all your hopes and strivlngs in This one great aspiration. And what, pray tell, is the outcome ot This frenzied application? Why, you're back where you started-with A headache as compensation. Austin Johnson, '31 A TOASTA To the bluest of eyes, To the spirit therein, To the rose-budded lips, To the tilted up chin, To the rippling hair, To the song of her voice, To the thrill when she's near, When you are her choice. Albert J. Tuma, P. GQ qzsm

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SOMANI-IIS 23 THE NEIGHBORHOOD PEST He looks at you with curious eyes Through small, white gold-rimmed .glasses He wears a zipper suit of blue As down the street he passes. The neighbor turns in grim dismay When he knocks at the door, For well she knows that he will be A stupid little bore. Should she be klnd and let hlm in This child of five odd years? Or should she let him knock in vain Till he bursts into tears? She then relents, and he comes ing He rushes to a drawer. What strange attraction forces him To dump things on the floor? Soon he tires of this play- To grandma's room he goesg He pulls the covers ot! her bed, And strews around her clothes. At last his hostess manages To lure him to a chair. He starts his questionsg she replies Though sunk in deep despair. lnnocently he inquires, Why is your nose so big? Why do you have such funny clothes? And, Do you wear a wig? My mother says you're much too fat-- She turns a rusy hue- She hustles to the door with him - That's quite enough from you! And as I sit here writing this His mother's eye is coldg It pierces me as she declares, He's worth his weight in gold! Ruth Hale, '32 DAISIES The daisies are small: the daisies are sweet- But thousands are trampled by careless feet. And yet that humble little flower Gives many a child a happy hour. Sarah Potts, '34 THE LOVERS I saw them there in the moonlight, Clothed in white and redg I saw them there in the starlight As I started one night for bed. They appeared to be waiting for some one, I surely knew not whom, It was fun though, to sit there and watch them . As they swayed side by side in the gloom. By my gaze they were not offended, As I watched them that night in July, I think that they really pretended, To heed not the passers-by. I might have called her a ilapper, As I gazed at her by his side, But to him she was pal and comrade, They were youth personined. A tune from a near by radio QI surely can llnd no faulty Was carried by the breeze to the lovers, And the two began to waltz. Back and forth and round and round, They danced to the beautiful tune, So absorbed were they in each other, That they hardly noticed the moon. This is to say in a casual way, That he slipped both arms about her, With a kiss or two, Cwhich is nothing to youl And ready to kiss he found her. She pushed her lover from her, As morning dawned o'er the hilly The breeze died down KI saw with a frownl They parted and remained there-still. I heard a noise in the kitchen below me, 'Twas Norah, our dearly loved mam, She hurried out side to the back yard. Where last night the lovers had played. By now, dear friends, you have guessed it. As his arms about her entwined- The lovers, as daylight revealed lt. Were two of Dad's shirts on the line. Betty Quimby, '33

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P - ,SOMA NHIS' D zs 4 JOHNNY VERBECK e There was a little Dutchman whose name was Johnny Verbeckg e He was a dealer in sausages and sauerkraut and speckg e He made the iinestt sausages that ever you have seen: And then' one day he invented a 'wonderful sausage machlne, bang! Oh! Mr. Johnny Verbcck, how could you be so mean,- I told you yon'd be sorry for inventing that machineg For all the neighbors' cats and dogs nil! never more be seen, Ar they'll be ground to sausages in Johnny Ver- bock's machine, bang! One day a boy came walking: he walked into the store. ' I-Ie bought a pound of sausages and piled them on the door. The clerk began to whistleg he whistled up a tune ' And all the little sausages went dancing round the room, bang! Oh! Mr. Johnny Verbeck, haw could you be so mean, etc. K One day the darn thing busted: the blamed thing wouldn't go- So Johnny Verbeck, climbed inside to see what made it so. His wife had anightmare and started walk- ing in her sleep- She gave the crank a heck of a. yank and Johnny Verbeck was meat, bang! Oh! Mr. Johnny Verbeck, etc. Q Gerald Chappell, '32 AN QORIGINAL THEME When I sit down to write a verse On literature or great events, I cannot seem to pick a theme, Or to construct a proper cene- . The words that I make rhyme don't seem N To make a bit of sense. Now what do poets write about? There must be thoughts enough! - Ot babbling brooks, of shady trees, Ot azure skies, of humble bees, ' Ot 1ove's- sweet song, of dimpled knees. Those themes are all used up. I'm going to be original- And pull oi! something new I'll write about a Freshman dance Where several freshies took' a. chance, Where all the boys shook oi! their trance And did a step or two. But that would be afar fetched tale That lacks the ring of truth. For when did ever freshmen boys Bewildered by the weirdest noise Collect their nerve, regain their poise And dance? A dream, Iorsooth. Margaret Smith, '31 F-reshmen we arwevermore, R-eady for the game. E-ach of us will strive to learn S-ome will win great tame. H--ard tasks stand before us now, M-any will pursue A-nd accomplish all we can, N-ever false. but true. Freda Rothe, '34 .4 4 1 v v 1 1 1 1 i 4.