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

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OAK LEAVES 1949 SPRING Once again, the heavy curtain is drawn back and Spring returns to the center of the stage. In the faint, early morning, the hills are silhouetted against a glowing golden backdrop. The trees suddenly shake themselves out of their lethargy and put out buds to meet the flecked sunshine, while the bulbs push hurriedly to freedom. Soft, delicate breezes swirl across the valley, rufiling the young buds on the branches of the trees. Pattering showers leave the woods moist green citadels. And over all there spreads a Warm aura of sunshine, and wind, and air-spun clouds. LINDA ZANETTI, '50, AMERICA TO ME America to me is a land of rich promise of freedom for all. In America there are no shortages nor rationing and no long waits in line to obtain needed articles. The stores are well stocked with items that would make the average European gaze in awe. Classes do not exist. The executive's son and the gardener's daughter may attend the same public school, faculties and student bodies work and play together. The American can attend any church he wishes. Almost every sect on earth is represented. He makes friends with those he worships with and those he meets in clubs open to all. His child has a right to education. From kindergarten through High School education is free to all. A full college education is open to brilliant students who win scholarships. America does not consist of comic strips, automats, and inventions, but of freedom for all, opportunity to youth, and happiness in the future-that is American to me. GUNNEL STERNER FROM STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN. K. , V . Y 'i' ' l I A, wg? rm! l x ,,.. 9, E -' 'X' . it 7, , 249 , I' A. vi 1 I l 'Vim-5. 19

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OAK LEAVES 1949 OCTOBER EVENING Midnight descending, silence extending, Stars shining over the town, Moonshine on the trees, And a mysterious breeze Flutters my hair and my gown. Darkness intensely, shadows immensely, Hover and cover each past, Dark houses are still, As mine on this hill, Everyone's sleeping-almost. DIONY STODDARD, '49 NIGHTFALL The sun falls low beyond the sea, Gulls swoop, and then soar high, Soft breezes gently touch the trees And faintly, softly sigh. The mists creep inland toward the shore As dusk begins to fade, The clouds above melt, disappear, The red sky turns to jade. The evening darkens into night, Cool waves lap on the sand, All cares of day pass with the light And peace reigns through the land. MIMI LOGAN, '49 VOICE OF THE LAKE' Your joyful ripple summons me, To linger by the hour And listen to your haunting plea, For wood, for grass, for flower. But, most of all, I love your voice- Rare liquid melodies, Your song is dear to me. Rejoice! My thought you speak with ease. 'A lake is the landscapes most beautiful and expressive feature. From 'I'horeau's Walden' ELIN BROWN, '51 21