Momence High School - Monesse Yearbook (Momence, IL)

Page 22 text:

Clyde Parmley. Myrtle Gibeault. F. Vanlnwagen. Helen Gray. Lloyd Crosby. Agnes Peterson. SENIOR CLASS.—(NOW.) Viola Chipman. Bert Willis. Carrie Clark. Ina Hess. Marie Wennerholm. Anna Templeton. Edward Cleary. Laura Croman. Leigh Kelsey. Georgia Bennett. Sadie Crosby. Clara Wilson.

Page 21 text:

SENIOR CLASS.—(THEN.) Clyde Parmley. Ina Hess. Carrie Clark. Marie Wennerholm. Myrtle Gibeault. F. Vanlnwagen. Sadie Lloyd Crosby. Leigh Kelsey. Georgia Bennett. Bert Willis. Viola Chipman. Helen Gray. Anna Templeton. Edward Cleary. Clara Wilson. Laura Croman.

Page 23 text:

JUNIOR nytusic. The Momence schools are keeping up with the times in this line of work as well as others, being the only town in Kankakee county employing a Supervisor of Music. The work was introduced in 1902. The Board of Education wisely adopted the “National Course,’ published by the American Book Co. It is proving in every way satisfact¬ ory to teachers and pupils. Rapid progress is being made in all grades. The popular Cantata, “The Coronation of the Rose” was given by the High School in January 1904 with Miss Vi¬ ola Chipman and Mr. Leigh Kelsey as leading characters. The work in High School consists principally of chorus work and a study of composers, such as Mendellsohn, Mo¬ zart, and Abt, It is not uncommon for people more or less intelligent to speak of music and drawing as merely ornamental branches as distinguished from other studies. In looking the world over, what branches do we find more useful or more practical than music? Into the pleasure of social life, what branch enters so largely as music? It the objective point of education is refinement, what agent or influence is more potent? “The memory of song goes deep. Who is there that, in logical words, can express the effect music has on us? A kind of inarticulate, unfathomable speech, which leads us to the edge of the infinite and lets us for moments gaze out into that.”—Carlyle. BOOK Autumn. First Prize for Poem.— by Helen G. Gray. A ling’ring presence seems to hover o’er us all; The Spirit of forgotten happy days,— The sadd’ning thought of all-to-soon decay Of life—a leaping flame so soon put out. ’Tis like a doomed one’s last short days on earth; How he conspires to do for each some act To leave with all the thought, “How good he was” To keep his mem’ry bright in future days. These golden tints are but a mockery Assumed to hide the dismal shroud beneath: The sleepy haze keeps from our eyes the grave Wherein these happy days so soon must die.