Mount Vernon Seminary - Cupola Yearbook (Washington, DC)

Page 28 text:

“Hark! and listen to the song of Senior Class, Hark! and listen to her glories unsurpassed; She holds our loyalty, Honor we ' ll ever bring to thee, So sing, Seniors, ever merrily To Class of 1911. ( Time — Every Little Movement) We chose the lily of the valley white To typify a spirit pure and sweet, The butterfly, the symbol of the East, Which bears the message on its golden wings Of immortality — ‘Pan, the God of Music, Played on his silver flute, A fragrant lily Beneath his feet took root. And as the music quivered, Down from the heaven’s sky, lust as a beam of sunshine, Fluttered the butterfly — Down to the earth it flew, Right where the lily grew. Oh! thou tender flower, Looking to the sky, Cherished by sunshine, Formed like a butterfly ! Butterfly our symbol, Lily our flower. (Tune — Santa Lucia) 18

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“W hen school days here are o’er. And Juniors and Seniors part. Our lives will be brighter Our courage more strong, Your motto will live in our heart. May blessings strew your path And your way be tilled with song; Wherever we meet you With these words we’ll greet vou Hail to 1910!” We trembled as we watched the Senior Class, Suffused in knowledge, read their Senior Themes ’Twas Conservation that they preached abroad, “Conserve the trees for races yet to come,” What was our theme to be? We feared to guess; The Senior play then filled us with delight. Yet could we ever dare aspire so high? Then a green ivy planted 1910. And gave the time-worn shovel unto us — Thus one by one their last tasks they performed, Doubts and forboding sadness filled our hearts And spent itself in tears. W hen we marched in And took the Senior seats we felt the pall Of a new dignity creep in our souls — A new responsibility for all. The fall of 1911 came and brought The eager Juniors to their Seniorhood; In Senior House they thronged and gazed about A little proudly on the world at large. We gave the world to know of our desires And aspirations for the year to come. 17

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It came to us that e’er the Junior girls Should be a class they all should prove their worth, So rules were read in chapel, bidding them To treat us as their betters and to show Respect. And lest we should forget Their diverse names, or mix them with the rest, They wore small bows of ribbon on their arms — Not as the knights wore favors on their sleeves To bring them luck. They having proved their worth, We hailed them as a class. “Your days of woe are over now, You can all rejoice; No more wait Outside the gate. Or wear that bow of white. We now greet you as a class, Try and prove your worth; From now till the end May you ever ascend, Oh! Junior Class.” (Tunc — Bring Me a Rose) As winter came, Thanksgiving Day grew near, And as the custom is, we searched our hearts To find what was our greatest cause for thanks, And when we found it, this is what we sang: “Come, all ye Juniors, for we want to say Why the Senior Class is so thankful today — No lessons this morning did we have to get. And it made us so happy that we’re happy yet ; This morning we had breakfast at the same old time, But we’re just as thankful as if we’d had it at nine; But most of all we’re thankful for the things we’ve had to eat. And hope that these joys we can soon repeat. lit