Mountain View Union High School - Blue and Gray Yearbook (Mountain View, CA)

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31 Slip itrgr nf titr ttx m ' ' ' ' ' surging sea, 1 ? ' ' 1 ? limitless, great salt sea, (•J ii I walk upon the wave-washed strand, Where breakers roll upon the sand, J like to hear and understand The surge and the dirge of the sea. By the side of the surging sea. The gray old, gray cold sea ; The wey spray dashes o ' er my feet, The waves against the sharp rocks beat, And the same old tale the waves i-epeat, To the swell and knell of the sea. 1 ' y t lie side of the surging sea, The ever listless sea, 1 go along the sounding shore, 1 hear the e ' er unceasing roar Of the tossing l)illows evermore, ]n the moan and the groan of the sea. —Llewellyn A. Wilcox, 17. ®ljp Pool I HAD tramj etl long and wearily through the drowsy wealth of a sultry summer day. The sun marked its highest noon, and I sought rest. The green glen I)elow me promised repose, but when I came suddenly upon the pool, its lieauty startled me. The rich foliage, the sunny lirown hills, the rampant mountains seemed only the rough adamant nuide to contain this gem of Nature, and the marvel grew when one realized that this lucid jewel was naught but water, divinely placed, and virgin pure. The great trees of the hillside spread their giant arms over its sparkling bosom as though fearful that the jealous gods might snatch their treasure from them. From the head of the glen came a gentle liquid tinkle like the clear chimes of a fairy ehHj)el. The inlet, though hidden in the spicy cresses and grasses that tlrooiied i-estfuUy at the water ' s edge, was marked by great rose and violet bubbles that drifted into view on the widening circles of the fall. Through the clear water near the bank, the golden sands and pearl-white pebbles gleamed between the curling ferns and grasses, but toward the center of the pool these were lost in a mystery of uncertain shapes and softly swaying sha- dows and rich blendings of ever changing hues of nameless mystic colors. One almost expected some snowy-limbed, starry-eyed water sprite to )-ise in mists of mantling blues, shake her sunny hair, and in the rijjpling accents of thr brook, invite the weary hunter down to cool elfin bowers of lo ' e, wIhtc fairy delights would soothe away earth ' s cumbrous cares. — Llovd Johnson, 16.

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30 ULUE AXD CRAY 1 (lid manage to jiiiich licr in the turhoil, but it tlidn ' t do much good. Every chance she got she said something crazy so that only 1 could hear it and Mrs. Marsden would glare when I giggled. As if 1 could help it ! But the funniest thing was Miss Willoughljy 1 My dear, she just searched every corner to find something to ' crab ' about. The second day she found a feather duster 1 had aecidently left behind the books in the book-ease and reported it to Mrs. ilarsden. Of course, she was furious at me, for Miss Wiiioughby is a dreadful gos- sip. And the way she ran after Professor Cathers! Anyone could see that he was just crazy al)out Jean Woodsby, who is a dear, but Miss Wiiioughby thought she herself, was very attractive and tried to read suffrage articles to him by the hours. Bob — that is — Mr. Woodsby — and 1 tried to help liim out as much as possilde, liut she was a frigid and no mistake. Yes, .Sally, I ' m coming to the climax soon. You see 1 hadn ' t had a chance to lie alone with Anne yet, but my chance finally came the third evening after dinner. I heard them all say that they were going to the theatre and would leave immedi- ately. Naturally, 1 thought 1 would be alone that evening. So I slipped into the only evening dress I had along and made myself cozy in the library, relying on the hope that no one would come in. As luck would liave it who should wander in liut Anne! Of course, I couldn ' t resist telling her what I thought of her then and there for playing such a trick on me. Just as 1 was telling Anne that she was a mean little cat and that 1 hated her, in walked Mrs. Marsden ! Scandalized was no word for the way she felt. ' ' That little cat. Miss Wiiioughby, noticed my dress and began to yell, ' Burglars ' . Of course, Mrs. Marsden thought it was her dress and began crying — ' Get the police! Oh, my jewels! ' You never saw such a turmoil in all your life. And that hor- rid little Anne was laughing so she simply couldnt ' ' fess ' up. And there was poor I, not knowing how to explain or what to do. Finally Bob came in and said there must be some mistake and took my part gallantly. That sobered Anne and she explained. Well, they were awfully nice about it and Jean said she knew 1 must be nice because I made such a ' bum ' parlor maid. And then we all went to the theatre. Yes, Sal, that ' s all, just now; of course, I might add that Jean and jjob are coming to lloston lomorrow and you n( ' -er can tell what may develop. — Florence Hoi ' nig, ' 14.

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32 ®ljf itsmu ry of Ma ta TWELVE days of haki ' cl lielplessness niulei ' a lilistered teiit-eloth that hissed when splashed- with dripping sweat; twelve twi- lights and morns of hasty, voiceless l)ustle; twelve nights of hurry through the gi ' eat waste of l)lank, scarless desert sand. To- night, the night of fulfillment, a dim scarf of mist merged saiul and sky into one. The absence of a horizon conjured the delusion of an absolute sameness throughout all creation. The high, brassy moon stood motionless at the zenith, and a solitary star kept her company. I ' lven tlie stolid blacks were oppressed, and no longer croned their monotonous nuirehing chant. I caught myself listening; sti ' aining lo eatch the sound of something — anything, 1 knew not what. Mark ' s horse came even with mine. The Arab said ' Thirteen nights journey from Jovan toward the e ' ening star. We are there, but where is the lost city of Mopa? There, Sahib. ] Iahout Harem drew his sworil and jiointed straight before. l arely visible through the dissolving mist, yet not on the horizon, a slender sjjii ' e pierced the sand. We three spurred on at a gallop. We had realized our dreams. We had found the oi ' igin of the legend of the wicked Raja or Mopa, but like many another, realiza- tion ■ as failure. We searched for the lost eit ' ; we found a sjiire. The base was of saml scoured marble, round and perhaps twenty feet through. At about the height of a man ' s head the cap flared out in a sphere and tapered up to a slender nccdlc-like point about fifty feet al)ove the desert flooi ' . The l)all and spire glistened warudy in the mooidight. 1 reached up and pried off a tile. It was crusted wit h gold. This is wonderful. said IMark, but I search for the ruins of Mojja, and fail. Xot so. Sahib. You find Mopa preserved to you by the grace of Allah. It lies benetith you, Iniried in the sands. There, and there, and there, indicating with waves of Ins glittering blade, smaller widely separated spires ;ind turrets thai resolved themselves from tlie lifting fog, are the tops of the principal buildings. This is the (hnne of the city mosque. The avenging wrath of Allah hath luii-ied the riches of the Raja beneath the desert sands. They are ours for the tMking. — Lloyd Johnson. ' 16.