Newtown High School - Newtowner Yearbook (Elmhurst, NY)

Page 21 text:

lune, 1937 1 1 1 1 1 NEWTOWN Sonnet Against War Our men will always be too young to dieg Too young to take the sword and join the fight. They have not lived enough to let Life by To slip away into eternal night. Too short a time they've known the warmth of loveg The earthy smell of wet ground after rainy Of being to the team the man who droveg The pulsing factory's mechanized refrain. If they must battle, let them strive for peace At homeg to keep straight furrows cleanly plowed, Or give to pain a moment of surceaseg To make a land of which they may be proud. The fact is thereg no need of wasted breath. Say-men will always be too young for Death. Mildred H. Doughty Fifteen

Page 20 text:

NEWTOWN 1 1 1 1 1 I unc 1937 Fourteen Beyond Beyond a sky line white and bleak, Beyond the snow and ice-bound crags, Beyond the mountains harsh and steep, Beyond a lone pine tree that sags With tinsel from fair Ice-land's queen, The Bird espies a patch of green. Among the sweet peas and the rose He warbles early morning's song. He knows no anger, knows no throes, Repudiates both death and wrong. The gardener makes the pathways straight The twilight keeper locks the gate. One day the gardener went awayg The keeper sadly went to sleep. A flower from the common clay Stole in when night was deep. An ugly plant with venom filled Her way amongst the Howers tilled. Slyly she crept up in the night And choked the beauteous garden life. Her job to kill, destroy and blight- To mar the beauty with the strife. The birds forgot to sing at morn. Drab, jaded, lay the land-forlorn. Beyond man's petty whims and storms, Beyond his thundering anger, wrath, Beyond the lying, cheating forms, Beyond the eyes that do not laugh, Man saw a life of love and peace, A life of joy that did not cease. His patch of green burst forth in song. Pan played his pipes through all the hours. Mirth, beauty, did his garden throng. He picked but sweet and lovely flowers. He plucked the ugly plants at birth, And kept the loveliness of earth. Agnes Young

Page 22 text:

NEWTOWN f f 1 f Y Iune 1937 Sixteen Resuirgence A tree trunk-molded and decayed Against a sky line, scarred and frayed, With rearing storm clouds skulking low To meet the mountains far below, Bows down its mighty, mangled, frame Salvaged from a storm. No claim To life belongs to it. No feathered Songster of the air invades. Not tethered To the living earth are searching roots. No wandering shepherd calls. No owl hoots. Not in that storm and wind swept knell Do haunting dryads cast their spell. The dust from whence they came soon claimed The withered branches-broken, maimed. Not in an instant had life fled Nor bowed the tree its sagging head, But slowly, death kissed life's sweet lip, Left devastation in its grip. Not always does dark death hold sway. Life will once more sing merry lay. A clinging root-a sprout of green Springs forth and life again is queen. Agnes Young