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

Page 15 text:

OAK LEAVES 1945 IN A PERSIAN GARDEN-OCTOBER DANCE RECITAL DRAMA Laugh Pierrot! ! Cry Pierette! ! The whole world is your stage, For the Drama has gone on and on And increased its light with Age. The fire of Drama was kindled in an old Grecian day And now the flame of Avon Blazes triumphantly along our way. So laugh Pierrot! ! Cry Pierette! ! The whole world is your stage, For the Drama shall go on and on And glow brighter age after age. BARBARA PETERSON, '46 SILHOUETTE She stood in the meadow quietly, Silhouetted against the blue horizon, Her beautiful coat shone like polished bronze, And her mane whipped about her arched neck like red flame. NANCY KNOX, '45 13

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. OAK LEAVES 1945 and the combination of designs is very pretty. Skirts are simple, blue or green with an embroidery a little way from the bottom. On their heads they wear ribbons that are woven too, and they wrap themselves within big shawls which are also very colorful. After the mass is over many go back to their houses again, walking very fast as they feel cold and hungry. But some of them walk slowly, thinking about the sermon that the Priest explained that morning and which they were not able to understand very well. In a few houses one can see smoke from the chimney and as one goes by them one smells coffee, tortillas. and black beans with chile. Their lives run very peacefully and languidly. They work hard and have few pleasures besides working on their farms. There is really nothing outstanding in the pueblo but if you like to see the Guatemalan Indians work on their pattern blankets and weave native designs, and if you enjoy Spanish architecture, come and visit the little church and the monastery at Santa Barbara. THELMA IBARGUEN, '46. -l,l... i.. SPRING Spring has come to drink up all the snow She's freed the leaves and dancing blades of grass And set the brooks to singing as they flow The birds to warbling gaily as they ifiyg She's burst the buds full blown upon the trees And called the tiny fledgelings from their nest To float upon the muted, warm, spring breeze. GENE PINTER, '47. u CORNER or EAST GARDEN FROM STUDIO WINDOW 12

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OAK LEAVES 1945 READY FOR TWENTY-FIVE MILES AFTER ANOTHER WEEKEND AT ROSEMERE ALONG A LANE As I walked along a narrow, brown, dirt road the open fields with tall green grass swishing in the soft breeze were on each side of me, and here and there were peaceful, quaint old farmhouses. I looked straight ahead. It was there. Thrills quivered along my spine and I quickened my pace to- ward a brown drive circling from the road. A long white farmhouse stood beyond the yard. Vines were swinging between the posts of the long porch. The happy voices of many girls echoed from a big play room. I followed the drive on to a large white barn where more voices were pouring forth in happy laughter and horses munched contentedly. The wide lawns. the shady trees, the stone walls about the house, all seemed to protect this home. It deserves protection because it has offered its shelter to many who have loved it. This is Rosemere. JEAN CARTER, '45. TO ROSEMERE Idyll of freedom! There's sweetness in your heart! By your hills and streams, we love to roam And gay are the hours before we depart, But you're much more to us all-a home. To you-the grand couple who ever share your farm Could we ever express all our thanks for her? White house of grandeur, comfort and charm Keep your wings of welcome outstretched forever. BARBARA GAZARIAN, '46, 14