New Utrecht High School - Comet Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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l'0IfiS CIIIHIUIZIH With shoulders put to the task, He harkens to catch a false note, in the song Of the massive machine, Oiled by his blood. It turns slowly, cog upon cog, wheel upon Wheel, And grinds him into dust, To mingle with that of past, countless ages. THE TOILER'S REST A hound yelps in the dark, In the distance H y Radifz Q HAPPINESS Happiness depends upon What one has within- Not upon finances, nor Creeds, nor even sin. Not upon environment, Not upon your friends- Well, perhaps-not always, though- Happiness depends. The whit of swiftly passing vehicles, He turns on his side, moans And sinks again into weary slumber. Hy Rediff H. R. Zirilftein O TO A VISITING ZEPPELIN I greet thee, ,mighty ruler of the air, Though once thy droning made proud Britain weep, As when, in startling London from its sleep, Thy hostile sting was felt in grim warfare. A dozen years have healed its wounds and care, And nations now a lasting Peace will keep, Because thou bringest from across the deep, The honeyed sweets of Peace, with all to share. Our hands-no more in anger need we raise, Are lifted now in welcome to our shore, Assisting thee to find a resting place. In gratitude to God We sing, His praise, And from Him everlasting Peace implore t And pray your trips His guiding hand will grace. Rirlmrd A. Flinn Nineteen

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Gtibe Gomer Ascribe goodness in any sense, and we find it comes to the same: benificence to the living world about one, and so, also to one- self. Let us be, as Edwin Markham has suggested, Brothers, encouraging, helping, enjoying life with one another. Then we shall find goodness within, and glory within. ARE we not all living for ourselves? In the search for fame ,is not our ultimate purpose only recognition? Yet we must re- alize that such pride can be equally enjoyed in a proportionate small measure. Our good- ness need not be world-wide and published but merely appreciated, to bring esteem. In- stead .of heralded glory, we need only the unfailing glow within the heart that will, inevitably, become subject to recognition within oneself. Such glory is real and un- feigned for no man will make a voluntary attempt to deceive himself. Far better is it to be master of oneself than to master other men. A personal vict- ory may be as great as as renowned glory. As for gold, glory, or goodness, then let our aims be, not a conquest recognizable by all men, but for one man alone, one's self 5 for the ensuant peace within the soul will then provoke sufficient understanding for each man to live as content a life as can be lived. SPRING FEVER From the window of my room I can see in the distance-through the hazy Spring air Cool green fields and the spanless sea. They beckon me with sweet words-calling me with whispering cadences. I would leave this hot city-yet cannot, I would leave this dull book-yet cannot, I would drop this black pen-yet cannot. But still the lovely green meadows call sweetly and the murmuring waters call sweetly, Irving, come and enjoy us, X Fall on my soft fragrantrgreen bosom Dive into my cool depths, splashing my lapping watersf, Gladly would I come to thee, O, green fields and cool ocean-yet cannot. I win g Rothschild r Kogan' hQl Eighteen

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F L GDB Gitomer Twenty Sometimes Than And in th IN STORM the storm more comfort brings any gentler breeze that sings, etempests, shriek and roar Of angry waves against the shore A heart can learn how Nature, too, Has moods too mighty to subdue. In storm such strength is freed at last, Such To thrust With forces race along the blast all obstacles aside might that will not be denied, That fresher, purer grows the air, Swept free of poisons gathered there. In storms of life men feel a force That rends their very beingls source, Monroe Arkermon Yet when at last its furies wane, With stronger hands they grasp again The tasks time brings them through the .years They grow more wise through stress and tears. POPPIES Walking near the mountains Where the reddest poppies grow, A lonely place in the mountains Where the gentle breezes blow. As they grow upon a grassy mound Gr owing so quiet so sweet a style Flooded in sunlight all around With crimson face and wistful smile. Leonora R. Schworlzmon ECTASY NI wonder ...... Why the beauty of the sunset, The The The The The The rippling of a stream, sweetness of a dew drop, sacredness of a dream, calmlessness of cloudlets, thought of elves and fauns, daintiness of springtime, Should pain so? Eftelle H ol porin