Oak Grove Coburn High School - Oak Leaves Yearbook (Vassalboro, ME)

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OAK LEAVES Washington. It might have been easy to grumble and complain at our in- convenience, but in the spirit of Oak Grove, a handicap had been sublimat- ed into an opportunity and we realized the truth of the philosopher who declared, It is not life that matters, it is the way we meet it. Could a more poignant sorrow come to any musician than that which would accompany deafness? Although his heart seemed broken and his soul torn, yet Beethoven triumphed over this handicap to give us music that will continue to pull at our heartstrings until the World is no more. We Will all meet these bafiling situations whether in the shape of mere inconveniences that are temporary or real tragedies that are lasting. It is for us to rise above them in a glorious way as Beethoven did. Once upon a time there was a young painter who had a genius in drawing and longed to paint, but his family was too poor to buy any materials for him. Undaunted, the young Titian used the juices of flowers for his colors and the walls of his father's humble cottage for his canvas. It is true that all our names may not be found in later editions of Who's Who, but it is equally true that our ability to face our stumbling blocks courageouslyg to say to them triumphantly, Behold our opportunity g and to persist in surmounting thos-e stumbling blocks with a joyous and triumphant spirit will mak-e each of our lives more worthy of mention, and will be the one thing more certain than anything else to bring us lasting happiness. If the electrical current is cut off, we must immediately seize an opportunity for a delightful Colonial party. If one road to our desired goal is lost, We must blaze a new trail to the goal of our heart's desires. Would Titian have learn-ed the minute details of color pigments had it not been necessary for him to blend so carefully the colors of his wild flowers? Could Beethoven have put his torn soul into immortal music if he had not first had a torn soul to express? One ship drives East and another West, While the self-same breezes blowg 'Tis the set of the sail and not the gale That bids them where to go. Like the winds of the air are the ways of fate As we journey on through lif-eg 'Tis the set of the soul that decides the goal And not the storm or the strife. GWEN CONEY, '36. 10

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OAK LEAVES LOVELY THINGS Into my heart's treasury I slipped a coin That time cannot take Nor a thief purloin, Oh, better than the minting Of a gold-crowned king Is the safe-kept memory Of a lovely thing. Lovely things-a full moon rising slowly from behind a silver cloud, a scarred pine rustling in a summer breeze, first green grass in the spring, the tang of blue wood smoke, the song of a robin after rain, the smile of a mother, the strength of a snow-crowned mountain, the grace of a stretch- ing tiger, the flight of a gull, blue, lblue sky and white, white clouds, dew- pearled webs on the grass in an early morning, a half-blown white rose, the laugh of a golden-haired child, the blush of a girl in love, a road wind- ing over a hill, the sparkle of sunlight on waves, a white-cap on a tumbling green wave, a sail with a friend, a smile-a glimpse into the soul of one you love, these are lovely things. They are mine, and nothing can take them from me. Though I become old, I shall hold these forever in my heart. ETHEL WENTWORTH, '38. STEPPING STONES FROM STUMBLING BLOCKS From the security of our Oak Grove hilltop overlooking the Kennebec valley, we had been watching the old river with casual interest as it grew wider and widerg but being a mile above its banks, we could not possibly comprehend the anxiety with which others might watch the rising waters. With the carefree inexperience of youth, we were thinking how pleasant it was to be perfectly safe when w-e suddenly discovered that the lights would not turn on in our rooms. The current had been cut off where it crossed the river in the city above us. Word went quickly through the halls that we were invited to a formal dinner by candlelight and were asked to dress promptly before it was dark. A real surprise awaited us when we came from dinner to find our Assembly Hall quite transformed with a lovely arrangement of crystal and silver candelaibra in which tall white tapers were burning. We were welcomed to a Colonial Party and invited to imagine ourselves in the days of Martha 9

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OAK LEAVES AMBITION REPOSE BRING TO ME MY BOW OF BURNING GOLD TWO MOODS Leave me not Within this purple twilight, Give back to me my crimson Wings, So I may soar into that realm of light, Where genius sings. Hear once again great thoughts of high degree, Which have be-en Wrought into a symphony Throughout the years. The sunset turns to gold the Western sky, The trees and bushes at my door Reflect the burnished lustre from on high,- Why ask for more? Upon my hearth, logs sing their humble tune, The house with candlelight is dressed, And when at night there shines a crescent moon, I am at rest. 11 M.M