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

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OAK LEAVES 1945 COUNTRY LANES A swift gallop along country lanes ablaze with autumn foliage, wild asters like a purple haze across the meadows, young calves and a red colt gambol- ing in a pasture, long reflections in a river that flows beside the Winding road, riding to a hilltop to drink in the beauty of another October landscape, watching lambs and little pigs when we stop at the farmer's to water our horses, resring beside the river for a snack at the half-way mark, happy laughter and carefree hearts as we trot along, waving to children along the way who shout, The Oak Grove girls are coming, galloping the last of twenty-five miles to find that the cooks who have gone ahead have a roaring fire and sizzling hot supper Waiting for us-that is what it means to ride to Rosemere. - S. HARMONIES The symphony my eyes have seen Has never reached the ear. If only I could hear the gull's slow flight, The sun upon his wings,- Listening to seen melody Dlespising the beauty Doled to me by brass and string! N. S. A GLIMPSE OF OUR EAST GARDEN IN MAY 15

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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

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OAK LEAVES 1945 MINUET IS DANCED AT OCTOBER RECITAL THE HIGHLANDS OF GUATEMALA The sky is deep blue, The mountains are bluish green, The wheat fields gold yellowg The churches are pure white with their silvery bells. These are things that I like in the Highlands. THELMA IBARGUEN, '46. A SYMBOL OF FREEDOM The fog is dense and heavy, but through the grey mist as the ship steams nearer New York we can see the world's greatest lady, our Statue of Liberty. Her torch is held high, lighting and guiding to her shores all peace-loving, homeless peoples, whatever their race or creedg lighting the way to opportunity and freedom. Her proud head is high, defying anyone to dare steal that liberty which she symbolizes. As the ship glides closer and closer to the shore, people become aware of what she symbolizes and they offer a prayer of thanks. Her welcome to these blessed shores is always friendly and sincere, to the homeless and helpless as she opens wide the doors of opportunity which swing out from the halls of Freedom. EMMA BERGDOLL, '-47. 16