Mukwonago High School - Arrow Yearbook (Mukwonago, WI)

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1919 THE ARROW 1919 OUR HISTORY CLASS. The pupils of the Ancient History class Are surely in doubt whether they will pass. 1 he teacher. Miss Hayes, Tells us studying pays. But no matter how much preaching is done, '1 he pupils consider it fun To sit in class day by day Just as if it were play. But some day by and by They will know the reason why They did not pass, and they will come Back, one by one, to that History class. —Marion Sell. The poet, the artist, the sculptor, The same simple story tell: That they who would rank with the greatest, Must do each little thing well. All our heaviest blows inflicted By our M. H. S master’s hand, Are just some little reminders Of how we all ought to stand. —Agnes Mair. The sunshine’s bright on the high school. ‘Tis summer, the scholars are gay. The corntop’s ripe and the meadows in the bloom While the teachers make music all the day. The young folks play on the laboratory floor All merry, all happy, all bright. Bv’m by graduation comes knocking at the door Then the old high school days, good night! —Floyd Ferry. LUCKY DOG. A big bla k dog came upstairs one day, When Miss Chapman was feeling blue, He walked right in her class room, bold. She tliot, “What shall J do?” She ordered James to put him out But James was very slow He said, “I guess I’ll let him hang around, Until lie wants to go.” S! e then told Frank to put him out But Frank had on a brand new suit He said, “You’d better kick him out With the tip of your number ten boot.” She said, “ Iguess that is all I can do.” So site drew her foot back slow But before her foot could swing around. The dog took' a notion to go. —Arnold Stoecker. What can be said in schoolday rhymes That’s not been said a thousand times? The new days come, the old days go, We know we dream, we dream we know. We get there when the school lieTl’s rung We go home (maybe J when the day is done. —Alice Wylie. Once upon a weary day, while I worked, weak and tired. Over many quaint and curious English lines of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a talking As of someone almost hollering, hollering in my ear. “ ’Tis the teacher.” I muttered, “yelling in my ear. Only this and nothing more.” —Charles Goetz. Page Twenty-two

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1919 THE ARROW 1919 A it mi’s Dmtm It. was a beautiful night. There were many stars in the sky and the moon shone very brightly. Here and there were darkened spots which were shaded by the leaves of the trees. A lone soldier o nhorseback sat dreaming. The magnificance and the splen- dor of nature about him seemed to enchant him. It. seemed to bring back dreams of what might have been. They were really bitter—sweet dreams, bitter because lie might never be able to return to them. In this woods many of his pals had lost their lives and many had been taken prisoners. Out of his detachment he had been the only one to escape the hor- rors of that battle. And then, again came the dream of home and of all that might have been. Suddenly there came that, sharp pain in his side, caused by a piece of shrapnel, which put a sudden end to his dream, lie was many miles from the first aid station, and help he must have soon—yes, very soon, for every minute he was growing weaker even though the dreadful pain ceased for a time. The moon now went under a cloud; everything became dark. And the knight of the present war fell from his faithful steed, to the earth, to sacrifice for his country his dreams of what might have been. It was only a French helmet sent to the U. S. A., by an American soldier in France, probably to his sister or brother or perhaps to his sweetheart, awaiting his return to America. As it lies there how gloomy it looks, made out of cold iron and how heavy it. must have been on that French soldier’s head, weighed down by the sorrows of war. I wonder whether that head can be seen in Europe today or whether that soldier, old or young as he may be, has found his way to “Blithy”? Many a timet maybe this very helmet has protected its wearer from a shot or shell. Oh, if only this helmet could tell its story of this great war. The many days it spent in the trenches, the aeroplanes flying over head, dropping bombs where- ever they might land, and also of the many wounded soldiers lying near. Some praying on their knees for their families, but still glad that they fought for their country. Oh, if only this helmet could speak what a wonderful story it could tell us. —OPAL HILLIER. A FRENCH HELMET. —VIOLA KINGSTON. Page Twenty-one

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1919 THE ARROW 1919 OH, YOU JUNIORS. YVe of the Junior class all know That what I am about to say is so. We’ve attended school for nigh three years We’ve shown our smiles and shed our tears. The Freshmen when they come each fall Are large, or fat, or short, or small. They gaze about with bewildered look And attend wrong classes with wrong book. I o the Sophomores we now will turn Oh, how the Freshmen they do spurn With haughty look and head held high Kacli blunder they are sure to spy. YVe’ll just skip over our class you see And mention the Seniors, How will that be? They stalk about the room so proud Scowl when anyone speaks aloud. Take their hooks home every night Claim our work is all too light, Make believe they’re worked to death Hut teacher’s ear seems always deaf. won’t we show What a class we’ll really be, Lower classes, friend or foe. When we graduate in the year “20”? —Harold Stoeclcer. NEXT FALL. We wonder, will they miss us When they come back next fall? Oh. no. they’ll be too busy With their English, History and all. But w’e are going to miss them Because we won’t be coming here. Though we quarrel with the Juniors, In our hearts, to us they’re dear, And the Sophomores, and the Freshmen Let's not forget a single one. And the Faculty. We know' that next fall We will miss a lot of fun. —Pearl Mair. OUR VILLAGE. Mukwonago is a pleasant town, By lake and meadow's bordered ’round, Perhaps it can’t be called a city, But certainly iTs pretty. Seven hundred’s the population, A very small part of the nation, But a movie house and a bank have we, And our grocery stores are in number three. Our High School is the best around And few better drug stores can be found And if things happen as they say This'll be the largest junction in the U. S. A. —Mildred West. THE “FLU.” Johnny stayed in bed all day, he said lie had the “Flu.” His mother called the doctor quick to see wTiat he could do. The doctor came within an hour to tend to Johnny’s case. But Johnny ran down cellar to find a hid- ing place. The doctor said in angry rage, “Be this an April fool?” His mother said, “Quite so .dear sir. I’ll send him back to school.” So off to school did Johnny go. with apple in his hand. To give to Miss Chapman next day so he would not get tanned. —Arnold Stoecker. Page Twenty-three