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

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OIAK LEAVES 1950 ANOTHER NIGHT AT SEA 1 To That Which Is Real and Which Makes a Fool of Sciencel If I might rest again upon the sea, Lie stretched full length along the captain's deck And kiss the south wind curling 'round my neck And sink into a dreamy lethargy And float in pools of stars and reverie And follow fast that graceful, shining treck That curves across the night, and watch each fieck Of burning gold unfold a mystery, Then souls and hearts and all the universe Would speak to me, and the majestic swell Of silence, and Infinity's vast spell Would hail the thoughts which men of science curse. Then would return each strange lost fantasy To teach me of its deep reality. PHYLLIS TAMPLIN, '50 MY C-RI-MSON TREE I saw a tree beside a lake, Its foliage crimson hue, With leaves that floated to the ground And on the water blue. I gazed upon this beautious sight And knelt on bended knee, To hail the gracious presence of A higher deity. MARTHA STEELE, '51 SEA BREEZES The bow dips into the sea, The white spray cools my face, The seagulls are chasing me, The clouds resemble lace. The breakers are chafiing the rocks, The cold winds howl with glee, On the door of my heart something knocks, Asking to be set free. My boat groans with delight, The waves smile, pushing us on, Everything in the world seems right, The cares of the world are gone. 9

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OAK LEAVES 1950 The white spray cools my face As the bow dips into the sea, The waves behind have set the pace For my boat, my heart, and me! ERIKA LIND, '51 COMPLEXITY OF TEMPERAMENT Dew-drops on your lashes, Prompted by a similar source From which rain drops are extracted By extremities of weather and temperament, Naturally run their course. ERIKA LIND, '51 A LA MER Oh, restless rolling tumult, thou, the sea, Who sweeps in never ceasing swell and tide, And beats the granite-bounded shore with glee, Teaching the sportive dolphins how to rideg The lives of fishermen wvho toil and slave Are pawns to theeg no matter if they all Be lost! Thy cruel beauty, foam-flecked wave, Can be no comfort to an anguished call. It is not easier, O ice blue deep, To curve in smiling roll toward the sky, Than wake the 'venging furies from their sleep To whip the black-plumed clouds that blow on high? And still the vasty ocean takes its prize Unchecked, giving no heed to mortal cries. GRACEANN RrDLoN, '50 g X itll A X We 11