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

Page 18 text:

OAK LEAVES 1943 HOURS TO RIDE, TO DREAM, TO GROW, AMONG NATURAL BEAUTY. BUBBLES When I was a child A bubble I blew, Large and clear Of rainbow hueg The bubble burst And I cried all day- I'd lost the bubble So bright and gay. But now I have learned Through joy and pain,- Though all bubbles burst You may blow again. JOAN PERRY, '43. STORM A low rumbling suddenly echoes across the valley. The clouds, their anger mounting, quickly and sullenly assemble for their council of War. Their fierce grumbling grows heavier as they sweep onward, darkening th-e sky with their swirling cloaks except when streaks of lightning show the way. Then with a reverberating crash the thunder beats like a gavel in the hand of a giant. Jagged lightning and hard rain pelt the earth. Then as the rain softly ceases, the lightning ends its vicious attack, the clouds quietly fade away and the thunder, his anger subdued, speaks softly in the distance as the sun breaks through the clouds and a rainbow bends its beautiful curve across the valley. NANCY FARR, '44, 16

Page 17 text:

OAK LEAVES I1 .Q U 1943 Li'1?5iA11Y Ivy ff K X X CY' ,yr X L Q7 ' x j ef, ' Will' L wk .lv E' 'Z A -x HY 41 ikwith apol g Amy Lo HOLLYHOCKS Hollyhocks, Tall, old-fashioned ladies, Glowing in the sunny gardens And braving wind and rain All over New England. You belong there For you are old brick houses, And stone steps, And bordered paths. You are mine and I love you For I, too, was born,- Born and have lived in New England. And I love your stateliness, And your prim old-fashion-edness- For you are New England. Old New England, With her bending Elm trees, Her stony fields, And rock walls, Beds of mignonette and tansy, And waving fi-elds of goldenrod. From pioneer Massachusetts To windswept coasts of Maine- Hollyhocks, Red, White, Shell pink, Spirit of New England, I love your prim, old-fashioned flowers, And your slim, straight lines For you are mine And I, too, was born in New England. Pk well. N S.

Page 19 text:

OAK LEAVES 1943 YEARNINGS These things I have craved, skimming under billowing white sails, a long blue-green ocean topped with foaming white-caps, heeling while a thin spray rolls on the deck and then recoils, day dreaming on a soft sandy beach under a summer sun with nothing save fluffy clouds in the blue sky above, diving into cool fresh water from the still, sultry air of a hot sum- mer's day, lying at evening midst the smell of pine to hear the evening song of birds, a crimson sunset stretching as far as the ieye can see, twink- ling little stars above tall pines in winter, relaxing by a fireside when the air still carries a whiff of cooking long since done and Watching the fire slowly change to glowing embers. These things also I have desired, skiing cross country on fresh snow which sparkles in the warm sunlight and blazing a new trail through fir trees laden down with snow, skating endlessly to a soft and dreamy Strauss waltz with never a care in the world, warming myself by a crackling fire of dried pine cones, and tingling all over from the sensation of warmth after crisp cold, seeing the light snow sifting carelessly here and there be- yond my window on a moonlight evening with the cool night air iiowing into my room while I, myself, am comfortable, secure and peaceful. P. N., '44. 1 REMEMBRANCES Now that I think back- Funny how you left that morn, A wink in your eye, and a wave of hand And th-en you hopped on the train. I wasn't happy then- I knew t'would be a long time Before I would see you again- But I would never cry. I miss your face And your boyish laughter-- The sparkles in your eye- Those things will come again, And I feel that God did it- Just to test our love. C. R., 46. 17