Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

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OAK, LILY AND IVY. 9 CAMELOT. Camelot, the fairest of the fair, the most enchanted of the enchanted—built by the magic hand of Merlin! As I stand on this little hill just outside the walls, that ideal city lies before me, mystic, wonderful! Straight ahead, through the arches of that weird gate upheld by the Lady of the Lake whose garments seem evei to flow, and across whose bosom glides the sacred fish, flashing silver-white in the mellow June sunlight I see the great marble castle of the King, with its tall, white pillars; the parapets and spires of its many battlements rising high in air, their tops almost lost in the fleecy clouds that lazily float across the celestial blue of the sky; and the little brook, clear as crystal, dimpling with delight as the gentle wind plays over its surface—the little brook which encircles the city and is spanned at frequent intervals by arches and bridges of marble. But those long, Gothic windows, catching every beam of the sun and casting their glorious colors upon the floor of the Hall within, hold my attention longer, for full well I know that they, in unsurpassed beauty of workmanship, depict the story of the King’s great battles with the heathen. In imagination I look through those win¬ dows into the great Hall itself, and I seem to see the room hung with the armor of the knights; at one end the huge, hooded fireplace, at the other, the throne of the King, and all between occupied by the Round Table about which sat the knights—Sir Galahad in the magic chair, wrought by the hand ol Merlin. Again, I gaze at the castle. High up in the loftiest marble tower is the golden statue of Arthur, with a crown on his head and peaked wings on his shoulders. But the eye cannot gaze long at it, for it is dazzlingly bright, lighted by the rays of the noon-day sun. Mounting toward it, as if striving for its emi¬ nence, are the lesser towers, each crowned by a statue of man or beast. The nearest spire of all, near but yet missing by far the eminence of the central tower, is that of the chapel—the place of worship for the knights of the Round Table—built of white stone, not marble, but purer than that substance, and topped by a golden cross. Descending from the tower on either side is the end¬ less array of towers which form a beautiful, mystic mount of spires. A flash of arms, a shout of men, and down there in the tourney-field to the west of the castle, Arthur’s knights are combating. From the high casement windows overlooking the field fair maidens with shy and innoc ent eyes gaze down upon their knights, who answer their looks with happy smiles. I see Lancelot. I know him even at this distance by the ease of his bearing, by the shield that he carries. Suddenly, at his feet drops a single, full-blown, red rose. I look up, with him, at the window. Was it Guinevere, who once more had shown her husband’s dearest knight her love for him, or another “Elaine” whose simple heart, like hers, had gone.out to this man? Musing on the fate of that “lily maid of Astolat,” who had died for love, my glances wander from that mystic city, but a burst of heavenly music, like none I had ever heard, brought me back with a start. The city had vanished,

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8 OAK, LILY AND IVY We would like to say a few words in regard to our orchestra. Few high schools of our size can boast of such an organization and we have noticed that some schools of many more pupils, are woefully lacking in this respect. For many years the high school orchestra has been a prominent feature in high school life. The members of it have cheerfully and willingly offered their services for entertainments and for prize-speaking contests in which they have repeated¬ ly shown the result of their constant practice, and we feel indebted to them for their kind and useful services. The great help of Miss Ethel Gould ex-’op, pianist and Batista Vitalini ’o8, cornetist has been greatly appreciated by the school. The orchestra this year, is under the leadership of Edwin Bath ’10 to whom a great part of its success is due. The board of editors wish to thank the alumni for their many subscriptions to our paper. There are still a few more to be heard from, but we feel that it is only a matter of short time before they will send in their subscriptions. We appreciate the efforts of the alumni to help keep up the standard of the paper and they will recall that when they were pupils of the high school, in order to raise money to publish the school paper, they turned to the alumni for aid which was always cheerfully given.

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IO OAK, LILY AND IVY. gone as it had come, to the sound of music. No longer can I see the turrets of King Arthur’s palace, gleaming in the sunshine; no longer, the group of happy, young knights, fighting in mock battle; no longer the mystic gate, sustained on the outstretched arms of the Lady of the Lake. Before me, dotted here and there with fleecy sheep and crossed by a little stream dancing in the sunshine, lie the plains outside my own home town—above my head floats a feathery white cloud in whose depths I seem once more to see the enchanted city of Cam- elot, built by the magic hand of Merlin—mystic, wonderful. Slowly I leave the scene of my day-dream, and as I go I hear, ringing in my ears, the words of Arthur to his last-left knight, Sir Bedivere : “The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfills himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.” John Dalton, ’ii. A RIDE ON A RAFT. In many ways a southern trip in an automobile is delightful, but unfortunate¬ ly, its disadvantages are equally great. Perhaps the greatest of them are the streams and small rivers which must be forded. Seldom can a bridge be found at the opportune moment for crossing. Often these streams are so deep that horses must swim across and wagons be left behind on the shore. It was to such a stream that a party of five weary travellers came one sunny afternoon. They had been journeying since early morning over very rough roads and now, tired out, were endeavoring to reach some inn where they could spend the night. The nearest bridge was fifteen miles away, and although the water looked cold and uninviting, time was precious. As the only alternative to ford¬ ing the stream here was to travel many more unnecessary miles, the car, with its occupants, plunged gallantly into the water. Slowly and painfully it struggled into the middle of the stream ; the water splashed and foamed around it, occasion - ally wetting the people huddled in the tonneau. Then, with an apologetic cough and a snort of disgust, the machine stopped, leaving the travellers alarmed and bewildered as to what Fate would do next. Investigation showed that the car¬ burettor was responsible for the trouble. The party consisted of a stout gentleman no longer young, with a decided taste for the comforts of home; his wife, to whom water as a means of transport¬ ation was extremely distasteful; a young girl, his daughter, who declared most emphatically that “fording streams becomes monotonous after one has crossed a few hundred;” a small boy, with a small boy’s usual delight in anything that promises adventure; and, lastly, that most necessary and long-suffering mortal— the chauffeur. Now here they all sat gazing helplessly at one another, but no one