Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts - Mohawk Yearbook (North Adams, MA)

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THE AXIS Makes her even more so famous- Ask your favorite druggist for it, 'Kay's Complexion Cream'g he'll have it. And I remembered how we always Used to wish we knew your secret In those days at Normal, Kay dear. Again the night wind swelled with music And the breezes spoke t-ogether- Kay McMahon, a great composer, Wrote this song and many others. Music supervisor is she, In that place called New York City. Quite a future, Kay McMahon! Then the music faded softly Into one grand acclamation, As for some great person shouting: And I listened to the voices: Bessie Hurley, the class darling, Is a senator at Congress, Favorite speaker of both Houses, Honors the name of Massachusetts! Hail to Bessie, our class darling! All at once a deadly silence Fell upon the night winds' sighing. Would they speak no more that evening? Maybe not: but, yes, a voice stirred, Whispered, rustled into speaking: See this picture here before you,- Tall and stately, on a hilltop Stands a mansion, 'Sheerin's Boys' School, And the matron, Alice Sheerin, Is a woman well worth knowing. Now her one strong regulation Makes us think of days at Normal: 'Any negroes herein entering,- And the same applies to Chinese- Are required to bleach complexions. This, per order of the Matron. Reason :-Recall that trip to Washington. Then the breezes laughing softly Kissed my brow and swept to northward, Leaving this among the branches: In from Williamstown with Lillian Every morning came Peg Dunfrey. Now our Peg has wandered southward, Wandered into New York City. There to start a shop for women. Fashion worships at her footstool. At her word, turn whims of fancy. Queen of beauty, found in Paris. Then the breezes blew on calmly, Steadily spoke the Druid voices: If you'd ever chance to wander Back some day to N. A. Normal, There to find a matron living, Know her for your Marion Woodard. Know you that she was House President In the year '23 at Normal, And so well she did her duty That she now presides as Matron. Then the breezes started dancing As a violin bow dances Till they spoke in measures lilting: Married to a splendid fellow, Happy now is Pauline Johnson. But because she still loves dancing, She composes dances now-a-days, And is joyful in her fancy. So the dancing breeze continued Softly, to the words that followed: Dancing feet trip ever lightly In Miss Edwards's lisle stockings. So you have a patent, Bunnie, Queer it is that they are lisle. Then the breezes, soft and crooning, Sang a lullaby of dove notes, Sweet and low, the breezes whispered, Sweet and low, the echoes murmured. And so the lullaby continued And they said: Look at this picture, In a cunning little love-nest, Sits your Carrie Finck a-rocking, While dimpled hands rub curly top-knot And a voice says, 'Sleepy Muvver.' Oh, those breezes, how they scampered Coming Through the Rye, they shouted, While the Druid voices murmured: Margaret Dowriei your own classmate, Now at length a book has written, And the title is 'Scotch Folk-Tales.' W' Happy then the zephyrs shouted Till I heard a girl's voice singing Top o' the Mornin' sang she blithely, And I thought of Bessie Barber. Then the breezes spoke in union: Prima donna now is Bessie, Singer at the courts of Europe. All the little breezes brought me Scents of flowers in their bosoms, And the voices still relating Said in accents mild and mellow: Grace Bunnell is in a city, Owner of hair dressing parlors, Dressing hair and selling flowers, So her life-long wish is granted. Then the winds blew through the tree tops And the clicking of the branches Sounded like a busy ofiice. All the breezes whispered gently: Genevieve Coffey now is working In an ofhce where she's manager. Famous now is your 'Gen' Coffey. Then the idle zephyrs brought me The sweet clean smell of new-turned furrows And the voices of the Druids Spoke in accents faint and distant: Gertrude Mazanec now is partner Of Luther Burbank, far renowned. Now she's famous and successful- Honors Class of Twenty-Three now. Gertrude Boyle is now in business, Keeps a boarding house in Boston. O. Henry is her favorite author. Then, in fading, dying music, The mystic breezes ceased to murmur. And in fading, left behind them Incense of a Druid temple. Then a small, far voice spoke gently Further search is futile, mortal Stay not here, for all is ended. Depart, frail one, and come back never. So I rose and started horiieward. Homeward, through the purple mid-night While the sky above me glistened, . Shone with souls of by-gone lovers, Stars of heaven, looking downward.

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.LLA4 .A..L.4..L.l.AJ Glass llbtophecp 1Flo. 2 All my heart seemed bent on slumber But though in my bed I nestled, Sleep in vain had sought my eyelids For I lay there, thinking, thinking, While my tired brain went weaving Back and forth and in and outward, As a spider with her tracing Spins a'web of sheerest gossamer. So I lay there in the darkness, Velvet darkness, soft caressing, Lifted, swayed, and touched my forehead, Lulled me into rest and quiet, And I sank into a slumber, Half a dream and half a vision Till I saw in haze before me Days, that in the life of many Dearest are, those days at Normal. Rose and silver, opalescent, Rose and silver, intermingled, Gladsome days in youth's gay springtime. S0 I wandered out through dreamland Wreathed in gauzy mists of slumber. And a sighing led me onward Seeking that of which I knew notg Onward, through the pale green mosses, Dripping with the dew of nightfall, Onward, through the clinging bushes, Through the beds of purple lilies, Through the fleur-de-lis and violets, Till a voice within me murmured, Whispered low, Your search is ended. And I saw a grove about me Cleared of all the under-bushes. There, like guards of Fate, were standing, Tall and stern., like Druid temples, Swishing pines, tha-t moved and murmured Till their murmurs grew to whispers, And their whispers grew to voices, Till they spoke in proclamation: Listen to this tale we tell thee, Listen to our words of wisdom. Prophets of thy future are we. It behooves thee well to listen. Then the voices fell to silence. Still I listened there, in waiting, Held my breath in sobbing silence, Till a wandering breeze set whispering, Druid voices, fate portending, And with startled heart I listened To the words the night breeze brought me. To a certain shop in Paris, Followers of a new cult wander. There to see above the doorway, 'Clarke and Coue-No more illness.' And to hear a voice a-chanting, 'Come and throw away your crutches. See and walk, you blind and lame ones. Day by day, you doubters, scornful, Better and better, grow the faithfulf After pausing in the breezes Again the swishing grew to voices: In from Williamstown each morning Came a girl whom you loved dearly. 'Lil' for short you often called her. Now she lives in Cincinnati. Teaches dancing for beginners, Social dancing, of the latest. Happy there your Lil is living. Teaching in the Normal Art School, Designing raiment as a sideline, There is Alice Smith, our classmate, Clever in all lines of working She at last has found her calling. And this last you soft must whisper Only to your close companions, Alice Smith is really married In spite of all her protestations Fast and furious, made at Normal, The same as in Fate's every card game Hearts were trumps and Al was winner Congratulations to you, Alice! Again a zephyr stirred the pine trees To their customary chatter, In the Old Ladies' Home at Pittsfield Eighty years from now, you'll wander, There to find Peg Shea, Ann Larkin, Two old pals in years at Normal. Now the very instigators Of a plan for civic welfare. They have formed an Anti-Flirt Club. Thus things change, you see. dear classmates N ow the voices in the branches Swelled, and grew to great proportions. Sang and shouted to the breezes: Your Beth Dunphy teaches music In a finishing school for women. Hearken to the song they're singing. Hearken, said the breezes rightly. And I thought my ears deceived me, For swelling out upon the night wind, Came that song, Beth's only favorite, No, the breezes shouted loudly And the air called back in triumph, We have some bananas today. Then a voice as though exhausted, Said in tones soft and pellucid, Out upon the fragrant prairie, Where a rancher lives in comfort, You will find a classmate living. Medbury, is her name no longer But her life long wish is granted For now she looks at Starrs forever. Now all voices joined in chorus As though refreshed at Mabel's story: In a double house are living In a city, fair and beauteous, Classmates two, and living peacefully. One has one side, one the other: One has one child, one the other, Olive Iles and Ruthie Reynolds, Life long pals and boon companions. And the voices fast continued: In that city, fair and beauteous, Happily, lives another couple: Helen O'Neill and our Blanche Olsted, Partners in their life's vocation, Directors in a fine gymnasium. And the night wind gently touched me, To my very skin seemed soothing. And no wonder, for the statement Made by all the breezes solved it. Principal of a school in Pittsfield, Reputation, wins Kay Drennan. And a little side experiment

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28 THE AXIS But so musing, I grew careless And I stepped into a morass. All its long gray arms clung to me, Sucked me down in smothering terror. Then I tho't of other comrades. Why had I not learned their future, ' Till I, sinking faster, faster, Into Death's dark hall below me, Gave a mighty leap and landed Right upon my chamber carpet, Gazing upward at the ceiling Thinking tho'ts profound and serious, I decided that no mortal Ought to eat mince pie for supper. Then I rose with joints a-tremble, Looked from out my chamber window And saw the first shell pink of sunrise. Flushing rose, the hills of morning, While the whole world, bathed in beauty Seemed a promise for the future. So, O classmates, in our morning, When life's sun is just at rising E'er its beams are fading westward, Live a noble life and worthy, Be a soul who fears not sorrow, Steady, staunch and true, dear classmates! E!z'zfzbeh'1 Coulee, '23 I C1855 will WE, Ruth Irene Clarke and Edna Irene Messier, being of uncertain health, unsound minds, and disjointed memories, do solemnly write and declare this will in behalf of the Class of 1923: To Mr. Smith: The experiences of the Class of '23 to tell to future psychology classes. To Mr. Carpenter: Teachers like the Class of '23 to fill out his vacant positions next year. To Mr. Cummings: A guide book to lead him around safely when he travels. He knows the reason why. To Mr. Eldridge: Our sincere thanks for the help and good suggestions he gave for the benefit of our class. To Mr. Venable: All success in garden plots in the years to come. To Miss Baright: The suggestions and ideas gained from our class to carry on socialized recitations. To Miss Pearson: Our class gives her its prompt attendance to recitations. To Miss Lamphier: All the nice men we meet we shall send to her summer school. To Miss Skeele: The promise to carry on her line of work in our own schools. To Miss Bishop: More girls to take her kindergarten course next year. To Miss Sholes: Our respect and admiration for her as the first female autoist in our school. To Miss Perry: A set of rules, so that she may know what she can do at the dormitory. To Miss Feeley: Good luck and the remembrance of her experiences with us in psychology class to help her in her position next year. To Miss Allyn: All the good times and happy experiences that we have had during our two years' stay. To Miss Ferguson: A little spare time in which to enjoy herself. To Miss Sears: Our good wishes for her in her new position. To Mrs. Van Etten: A better behaved class than '23 or she will certainly have to go to California. To Mary Neal: Rita Agan's cheery smile. To Pearl Anderson: Bessie Barber's initiative. To Frances Hayes and Mary Anton: Some of Gert Boyle's assurance. To Edwyna Barber: Grace Bunnell's giggle. To Evelyn Phelps: Some of Ruth Clarke's imagination and success as editor-in-chief of THE Axis to help her during the coming year. To Mary Meagher: Peg Dadson's playfulness. To Helen Reichard: Genevieve Cofl'ey's devotion for one man. To Mahelle Clarke: Cel Davine's bashfulness. To Marion O'Malley: Beth Cooke gives her wit to make her remarks clever. To Milicent Salmon: Kay Drennan's ability to see humor in everything. To Grace Hathaway: Elizabeth Dunphy's breezy airs. To Marion Briggs: Lilian Douglas gives her love of dancing. To Ruth Young: Peg Dunfrey's chattering ability. To Relenza Manchester, Florence Wagnet, Margaret Pederson: Gladys Wemple's quiet unassuming ways. To Dorothy Warfield: Nellie Slein's spice of life. To Evelyn Bullen: A little of Bernice Edwards's ability to flatter people. To Harriet Yates, Mildred Tower and Mabel Walker: Ruth Reynolds's love of the opposite sex. To Marguerite Gobeille and Emma Vilmont: Louise McDonough's demureness and natural charm. To Doris Sime, Dorothy Sime, Gertrude Welch, Arlene Robbins, and Edith Sunden: Marg Kennedy's bids to Williamstown dances. To Dorothy O'Brien: Anna Larkin's love of auto rides, es- pecially if the car is red. To Etta Guillotte: Gertrude Mazanec's artistic skill. With this bit added to yours, we feel sure that you will some day be an artist. To Marion Spaulding: Margaret Lowrie's good sense. To Beatrice Albers Ruth Potter's quiet temperament to keep her serene next year when she is House-President. To Mary Smith and Grace Whipple: Edith McCann's story-telling ability. We don't mean this the way it sounds, but in the literary line. To Agnes O'Keefe: Florence Mack's athletic interests. To Katherine Kimball: Gertrude Tyer's square dealings as President of the Class next year. To Hazel Tiedeman: The lively, entertaining ways of Alice Sheerin. To Helen Wheeler: Peg Shea's dimples to complete her beauty. To Rena Mills and Julia Curtin: Blanche Oldsted's ath- letic activities. To Edna Carpenter: Gene O'Brien's bashfulness. To Grace Williams and Doris Leland: Helen McCarty leaves her disjointed knee. We feel that Pat should get a little relief. To Helen Walsh: Madeline Tracy's skill in putting on vaudeville sketches at the dormitory. To Edith Lindquist: Alice Smith's friendliness with every- body. To Mabel Walker: Joe Mooney's interests at Williams. To Mildred Brown: Ruth Wilder's argumentativeness to help her in future debates. To Ruth Kershaw: A bit of Harriet Hawks's sweet manners to brighten her prospects at Drury.