North Shore Country Day School - Mirror Yearbook (Winnetka, IL)

Page 21 text:

Drifting in the winds of buoyant youth he lived, and slew the stagnant dragon that drowned him in mortality. In the mocking laughter ' s wind, its caresses exciting he stumbled after whirling passion that knew no calm. In his ripening manhood the seeds of adventure grew like weed, strangling him in sweet smelling vine. The liquid wind of his swimming blood ran in torrents that summer ' s spring. That tired man crying at the dying of the wind, his cold ears deafened by the hiss of dampened flames, was crushed under weight of drifting dreams. The empty heart that feels no pain, void of affection, a muscle of neglection, whose imperceptible murmurs remind that its cancerous tissue is dying. The happy face that shows no pain, pale with the nausea of unquenched thirst, sealing beneath a rubber face a ghost that is crying for birth. Guilty is the mind that knows no pain, shedding no tear for the misery it begets, only infecting, when it tries to console, the innocent wounds it inflicts.

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' , . ■ 4 % ■ ' V- « .1- $ - Hopelessly adrift amidst the frenzied, flannelled whimsey-waltz of words; the barrage of periodicals, My mind yearns backwards to earlier, once dominant and flourishing cultures; The Roman countryside, once trampled by soldiers; Rome itself, its marvelous gardens, full of busted statues, dusty sun-light, and uncut grass, grazed on by malleable, if contented, cows. Visions of Germans in beer gardens; Hitlers face leers, his cap malformed and meagre, from a picture south of Trier; Business-men, with their crisp knowing gestures, arms folded in grim determination on their desk, personify the wave of briny commercialism sweeping over us; The wind sighs a threnody through the window, the sun strokes an old vase with languishing fingers; outside spread slums, their bleak tenements and stagnating existence; Hope beams ever chimerically in the distance as I make one more brilliant lance into the shimmering sunset. 16

Page 22 text:

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