Oakfield Alabama High School - Oracle Yearbook (Oakfield, NY)

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LITERATURE Rescued Trapped in an underground tunnel, Cut off from the rest of the world, Two out of three were waitingg For death or rescue to draw near. Already one of them had perished, Had entered a newer world, Increasing the misery and suffering, Of the two who offered prayer. Their minds were growing hazy, They crazily walked the floor, Only God knows the agony they suffered, The hardships they endured. After nine days of torture, Rescue broke through from above, Blindfolded the two in the darkness, Carried them out to the light above. Newspapers ran extras, Radios blared it forth, Thrilling the listening nation, For the news they had waited hours for. Probably it will never be forgotten, The rescue of these two men, Of how they had, kept their courage, In a tomb where death had assumed command Clifford Long English IV Q . March March is a month of real variety, As she dances in her special way With the elements, weather, and society Blowing, snowing, raining, and shining gay Yesterday the sun was very bright, And birds, buds, and kites at ease But again today it is fluffy white, Another gale is rocking all trees. In dreams, study, wonder, work, and play Most is wonder what tomorrow brings Whether the rain, sun or wind will say, Who fights, trees, animals, or bird sings Arthur Parsons English IV 29

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LITERATURE A Poem I'm supposed to write a poem, And, of course it ought to rhyme, But I just sit here thinking, Mother says I'm killing timeg But perhaps if she were to write it She, too, might change her mind. When I want to write a poem Somehow my brain won't work, But I know that I shall have to try And it will do no good to shirk. It isn't very long you see, But I can't help the size, I've tried so hard, and have done my best So please don't criticize? Betty Greene, English I iQ-- A Sophomore's Perplexity I woke up this morning at break of dawn, To fume at the neighbor for mowing his lawn, Doesn't this seem to be always the way? The lawn must be mowed on Saturday. I pull down the shade and plunge back in bed Punch up the pillow and bury my head, Do what I will it just doesn't matter, I can't get away from that lawn mower chatter. If the lawn could be moved between eleven and noon, I would,n't be wakened from sleep quite so soon, Now, you see a Sophomore's life isn't honey and, pie, The Oracle Staff is waiting for this, so Goodbye. Dorothy Mullaney, English II l... The Musicians In this great orchestra which is life, To each of us is given a page of notes to play. Low notes-notes of sadness, lingering and unsweetg High notes-those of pleasure, gay and light. We musicians, uncontent as we are, ' To follow as the Master would lead- Insist on playing those notes of pleasure, only to find, The sweet music of our great orchestra soon discorded by our mistake Were each of us poor musicians able, To carry our part in harmony and time . This worl-d would ever be free from wrong! Celia Nagel, English IV 23

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LITERATURE Word Pictures of Nature HE beautiful is too often written about. Let's be pessimistic and describe the unpleasant pictures painted by friend nature. WINTER Winter comes down savagely over our little town. The Wind sweeps in from the open country. All the houses seem to draw closer together. The roofs that looked so far away across the green tree-tops, now stare you in the face, and appear oh, so much more ugly. In the early morning we are unable to see anything but whirling Hakes of white, which make the afternoons look bleak and desolate. Even the pale cold light of the winter sunset doesn't beautify it. It appears like the light of truth itself. The smoky clouds hang low in the west and the red sun goes down behind, them, leaving only a pink flush on the snowy roofs and the blue drifts. Then the wind springs up afresh with a kind of bitter song as if it were saying, This is reality whether you like it or not. All those frivolities of summer, the light and shadow, the living mask of green that tumbled over everything, they were falsehoods, and this is what was underneath. This is the truth. It is as if we were being punished for loving the loveliness of summer. A THUNDER STORM The thunder is loud amd metallic, like the rattle of sheet iron, and the lightning breaks in great streaks across the heavens making everything stand out and come close to us, but only for moments at a time. Half the sky is checkered with black thunderheads, but all the west is luminous and clear. In the lightning fiashes is looks like deep blue water, with the sheen of moonlight on it. The mottled part of the sky is like marble pavement, like the quay of some splendid sea coast city, doomed to destruction. Great warm splashes of rain fall on our upturned faces, and a thunder shower sets in. Margaret Traver, English IV. L+.. . Night The night has dropped her curtain clark, And birds have ceased their singing. A thousand eyes from out the skies, The sleeping world appear to mark. The wind doth gently stir the trees, And all earth's secrets does it bear, A lover's sigh, a prisoner's plea, The exile's grief from over the sea. The crescent moon from clouds doth peep, And all over the earth her radiance pours. Night's splendor passes soon away, When all the world awakes from sleep to start another day. May Patterson, English IV. 210