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

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OAK LEAVES 1950 A silver cloud was pierced through By the sword of a last ray of light. Then the sun sunk low and the Moon anew Reigned over her kingdom in the night. CAROL KRUEGER, '52 I MIST The mist envelopes me As I wander o'er the downs: It reaches out to me Grasping me, Pulling me Towards the glen it crowns. So with it I am carried To a place I know not whither: For the wind has come Blowing it, Dispelling it, The fog that brought me hither! ERIKA LIND, '51 WITHIN A DAY When will the young Spring come? Now, days are growing longer, Sun's early rays are stronger, The sky's a vivid blue. This anxious winter scene Half beckons to the guest, Half forms a new request For just that one last flake. These howling gales of March Soon fragrant Winds become, And awakened Earth will hum Within a day, of Spring. ELIN BROWN, '51 17

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OAK LEAVES 1950 BELLEROPHON TO PEGASUS O speed on burnished wings of snow-white light, My Steed, bear me above these crowded plains For see, below men toil with leaden heart And heedless step, and blindly follow each Of thousands that wore narrow paths before. Thy spirit that I harness for my joy Serves me with all the strength of love's sure faith And in this bond of love between us two Dwells that which brings us both to liberty. Now up, into the air, my noble friend And take me to yon lofty mountain top, Beyond, the countless twinkling stars await, Beyond, all space and time can be explored. GRACEANN RIDLON, '51. Dear Ellen: Do you knofw what I mean when I say you can feel snow coming? That kind of breathless, silent feeling in the air that precedes the wild flurries and steady floating down of that muffled quiet? Remember how in early afternoon the grey, troubled clouds gather overhead, as a stillness and feel- ing of expectation pervade all? A little scurry of wind whips brown, rust- ling leaves in an airy whirlpool,-and then gently scatters them back over the hard, cold, barren ground. From nowhere a beautiful, soft white star floates gently down to earth. Then there is another, and another! Gradually they increase in number, and a playful breeze spins them round an-d round, up, up, and then lets them softly settle down again, Soon the air is full of swirling whiteness, drifting here and there, only to be picked up again and spun around. But sooner still, the heavens settle down to laying a steady, feathery, white blanket, and, with only a tender whisper, gently spread the coverlet over the sleepy earth. I hope that you will be here sometime, Ellen, to share the strange spell of a New England snowstorm with me. Until then, I am always, Cynthia 19