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

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THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. 19 So was born the poet. From that day till this his spirit has not left us. In every age, in every period of the world’s history, he chro nicled the joys, the suf¬ ferings, the success, and the downfall of souls and empires. He has clothed these chronicles with phrases of such beauty that his works have become imperishable. As Watson has said: “Captains and conquerors leave a little dust, And kings a dubious legend of their reign; The swords of Caesar, they are less than rust; The poet doth remain.” The poet has preserved for us a vivid picture of Egypt’s grandeur and of Babylon’s splendor. Homer’s “Iliad” has vivified for us the heroic and noble ideals of the Greeks. Cicero, Virgil, and Horace have bequeathed to us Rome’s mighty civilization. Rome fell, thrones trembled, but the works of its poets re¬ mained invincible to strife and time. And what has the poet striven to accomplish through all these ages? .Since the beginning of time, the object of the poet has been to reveal to the world the ideal relation between God and man, and between man and man. He points out to the world the beauties of nature and of life which its dull senses cannot perceive. He must study the mistakes that men have made and prevent their recurrence. To him falls the lot of convincing humanity that faith is rewarded and that sin is punished. It is his duty to impress the world with the existence of the Deity that “shapes our ends.” Truth depends upon the poet for its definition, for it is his duty to differentiate between the right and the wrong. To fulfill this purpose, the poet cannot be an ordinary man. He must be of a different clay; of a more durable, finer clay. Imagination must be an integral part of him. He must have the ability to project himself into the characters of others and to feel emotions foreign to his ex¬ perience. A poet describing Death must visualize the agony of the dying man. When he writes of love, he feels the joys and pangs of it; he imagines and experi¬ ences every delicate heart-throb and fancy of the lovers. His imagination must be limitless, extending even to the attempted visualizing of the supernatural. Has any poet as yet visited Heaven or Hell? Yet Dante described to us a symbolical Inferno, while Milton’s “Paradise Lost” leads us to celestial realms. In this they succeeded by the exercise of their extraordinary imaginations. It enabled them to grasp and conceive the broadest and noblest of conceptions. Still these qualities do not constitute all the essentials of the poet. Strength of imagination and vastness of conception are useless unless accompanied by an aptitude for expression. “For true expression, like the unchanging sun, Clears and improves what e’er it shines upon.” Words,—he must have thousands of them, know the shades of meaning of each of them, for the form of expression embellishes the thought. Like a crude lump of gold, a thought represents value, but how much more does it signify when the gold is fashioned into an artistic object such as a vase or a chain. Then the value is evident and likewise is the thought more impressive, more significant when expressed in the beautiful language of the poet. The poet has proved time and again that “the pen is mightier than the sword.” Poetry and literature in general have been important factors in the moulding of public opinion on important subjects. Fifteen or twenty years ago, the English Tommy, or private soldier, was held in little esteem by the people and the govern-

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18 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. behavior of the sex in general. He loses faith in mankind and usually takes a fling at dissipation. This type, however, can be cured, for the affliction is only temporary. Pain can be forgotten and the better instincts of man cannot lie dormant in def¬ erence to a momentary disappointment. Then we have the intellectual blase. We find this type frequently among the modernists and realists. Those in whom emotions and thought eagerly seek ex¬ pression and find the usual mode inadequate. Their view of life and religion renders virtue as unnecessary and respectability as hypocritical. Knowing that their views are unshared by the majority, they resign themselves to the bonds of convention with that air of disdainful resignation so typical of the blase. Lastly and most amusing is the imitation blase. The genuine blase is some¬ times interesting; the imitation is always ridiculous. In this class belong High school students and college undergraduates. They affect a careless slouch, smoke cigarettes nonchalantly, neglect their scholastic duties, and adopt a knowing smile when referring to wine, women, and song. Now in every case the state of being blase is an unproductive condition. At its best it is a charming carelessness; at its worst, a disgusting laziness. In no case is it admirable. This type cannot succeed in any field of endeavor for the very reason that it does not wish to succeed. It lacks ambition to create or energy to reproduce and is consequently fruitless to the world. Although blase individuals do not realize it, they are retarding the civilization they criticise. Harry Broudy, ’ 24 . SALUTATORY. THE VALUE OF THE POET. In behalf of the class of 1924, I wish to extend to you all a most cordial wel¬ come. We are indeed pleased at the splendid opportunity your presence here to¬ night affords us to show the fruits of our endeavors. With the opportunity granted us by our parents and with the aid of our teachers, we are to-night prepared to per¬ form our duties and fulfill our ambitions. For the assistance and encouragement that have been given us during the past four years, we wish to-night to express our appreciation. Poetry had its origin in the creation of the soul. To outline the development of poetry would be to chronicle the pulse throbs of human emotion since the be¬ ginning of mankind. Long, long ago a savage in a rocky cave looked with love at his mate. He crooned to her and to the world a crude song of devotion. He compared the greatness of his love to the mighty sun and glistening moon. This praise, this glorification was the beginning of poetry. And when a huge boulder crashed through the roof, killing his mate, he grieved and lamented. Again he had translated his feelings into sound and this again was poetry. Thus he sang of love, of death, of war, of glory and of gods, and as he sang, his barbarous companions listened with rapt attention. For the moment, they abandoned their primitive surroundings and were transported to a higher plane by the inspired voice of their bard.

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20 THE OAK, LILY AND IVY. merit’s treatment of them was ungenerous. Reformers endeavored to improve their condition by instigating legislation, yet a poem written by Kipling accomplished more than their best efforts. He pointed out the value of the soldier. “It’s Tommy this an’ Tommy that; an’ chuck him out, the brute; But its ‘saviour of his country’ when the guns begin to shoot.” The latter line shows the hypocritical attitude of the nation towards its de¬ fenders. Thousands read the poem; thousands were impressed by it, and the British Tommy can thank Kipling for his improved condition. Children in the schools are inspired by poetry to patriotism while the soldier’s heart quickens at the words of the poet when set to music. Whittier’s poetry caused us to abhor slavery while the “Battle Hymn of the Republic” cheered our soldiers as they sought to abolish it. We are touched by the faith of the dead soldiers in “Flanders Fields” and the strength of the soldier’s courage in Seeger’s poem “I have 5 Rendezvous with Death,” while Amy Lowell’s “Bombardment” fills us with horror at the barbarity of war. In every walk of life we are influenced by what we read and through this, the poet can inject into thousands his knowledge, his ideals, and his nobility of char¬ acter. Yet despite the evident good that the poet has wrought, and the benefit he has been to mankind, he does not receive the appreciation that is his due. Living in an age of intense industrial activity where a man is judged by the material ef¬ fects he can produce, we are inclined to misjudge the poet. The word itself sug¬ gests to us a long haired individual with dreamy eyes and unstable emotions; a dab¬ bler unwilling and unable to do manual labor. Unless he acquires a fortune by his pen, we regard him as a failure. Because he writes sonnets t o a flower, we regard him as a weakling and as a rule we scorn him if he treasures his books. If he sings the praises of nature, he is out of his head. Reward comes only after death. This opinion we must recognize as a misconception. A glance at the lives of the great poets reveals the incorrectness of this view. Let us review the life of Milton. A man of genius working zealously for art and country, struck blind in the prime of his career and dying the greatest poet of his age. Although warned of his failing eyesight, he refused to neglect the pa¬ triotic duty he believed was his and continued to serve as secretary to the Com¬ monwealth until the Restoration, when he was able to take up his poetical labors. His eyesight, God’s most precious gift, torn from him, he did not despair or revile fate, but bent him self patiently to the task of seeing the light of God’s goodness through his darkness. Milton’s life is an example of the highest form of practical courage, the courage to fight against the temptation of despair. Many a man would have raged against fate and would have become a sour, miserable wretch, a canker to himself and to those around him. Or let us take Oliver Goldsmith, the divine vagabond. A man whom poverty tossed into all conceivable places and over all parts of Europe, and who never knew where the next meal was coming from or what his next shelter would be. Yet one whose faith in God and mankind never wandered. One who looked at ad¬ versity and laughed in her face; one whose company was esteemed by the wealthi¬ est and most cultured families of England. Alexander Pope, a cripple, poor as a church mouse, and sickly, wrote poems so b rilliant, so artistic that they have endured for years. This list of sorrows and struggles contains the names of many of our greatest poets. Their works are immortal because they were written with the blood of their own bitter experience. The poet’s existence is often a continued struggle with