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

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OAK LEAVES 1950 IN T n .F3f l, 1 5 3 ,sy LIGHTER fe ,W vi-:IN AN EVENING RIDE The horses were saddled already to ride We mounted our steeds to start, To ride down the trail midst shadows and trees Where the eerie ghosts did dart. One by one we cantered along Singing and joking together. When the heavens suddenly broke with a clap Making a change in the Weather. The rain came down like a tidal wave full, But never we changed our routeg Out by the mill and up to the tree For apples We did loot. On getting our fill-the horses' too- We continued our rainy ride On down the North Road We did come Trotting side by side. Over the field to the riding ring Followed one by one Doing antics beloved by girls, That only We could have done. After our fooling and prancing around, Back to the stables for all, To unsaddle, unbridle each our steeds Put each to bed in its stall. L. M. R., '50 27

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OAK LEAVES 1950 HAVE I TIME? At nine twenty-five the five minute bell rings, And I still have just about six million things That have to be done in the space of five minutes, So I'll leave them and say, In the morning I'll do it. LUCIA NoYEs, '53. FROM MY WINDOW During the day the view from my window is beautiful with the new snow everywhere and with the evergreens bending under the soft loveliness, but the day is hardly anything compared to the picture I see at night. As I gaze from my window the world is in darkness all except in one corner where there seems to be a great shining mirror with fairies dancing over it. Lights cast shadows in every corner making it seem even more like Fairy- land. The music of a Strauss waltz is floating past my window, making the scene even more like 'Fairyland It is a Moonlight Skating Party! JOYCE KETCHUM, '54. MOUNTAIN MAJ ESTY The majestic rise of the beautiful blue mountains overshadows a shallow glistening brook which goes quietly along, bright and clear, until here and there it pauses where a tiny dam of drifted weeds and water grass causes dark patches in the little stream, even as the never-ending stream of life flows gently on, interrupted by a few dark moments. As the little brook winds on its woodland course through the lush green isles of forest, it comes presently to a limpid pool nestled far back in the mountains. There is a small abandoned red mill on the opposite bank where gay men once told stories of their former adventures in the north woods. The trees hang like a canopy around the scenic spot where they seem to be guarding from any intruder who might happen that way. It is spring and a few wild ducks that have paused from a flock that flew northward recently now sit quietly in the water like petals on a Japanese lake. They seem to wonder Why any- one has dared to come to their pond, and indeed this secluded, quiet place must now be for wild life alone for how could man, in the hurry and strife of the present day, keep the true peace and silence of this mountain glory. ALICE NOYES, '53. 26

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