Oakfield High School - Oak Leaves Yearbook (Oakfield, WI)

Page 15 text:

CLASS POEM Should you ask me, whence tliese stories, W hence these records and traditions. With their influence upon others. With their tliots and compensations, W ith their guide for those to follow With their meaning ami reflection With their frequent repetitions, I should ansvvei, 1 should tell you From our hearts within us beating. From our school life we have gathered. These few records and traditions Of the memories we have cherished Of the school from whence we parted. Ye, who love a nation’s legends. Love the history of its people. That like voices from afar off, Call to us to pause and listen, peak in tones as clear as crystal. That your hearts are touched within. Listen to these lines of pathos, To these words of kind remembrance. You shall hear how our friend “Curly Crammed and studied in the evening Not for fame and honors only. Not for riches greedily seeking. Not for title was he working, But for higher education. Forth way thru the halls of Ripon All alone walked little Curly, WOndering what his life would be there, should he meet the brown eyed maiden Fate had destined to be his'n f Now we’ll tell of dark-eyed Nora And the beauty of the moonlight Lurked within her chestnut tresses. With her moods of shade and sunshine. Eyes that smiled and frowned alternate. Dreaming, wondering, thinking, hoping, Of that tall and handsome athlete. Could he, would he, should he. Dared he—ever pop the question? Forth upon the football gridiron Or upon the baseball diamond Came a youth with tread so steady. With a will to win the battle. Swift as deer was classmate Sammy,

Page 14 text:

JENNIE M.NORTON MAYME M.SCHRAVEN N 3RA V. LOCKE CARL S.CRAGOE LLEN E.SAMPSON RALPH E.ATKINS ‘ .3CH00 °Sl

Page 16 text:

As he lied away to northward. To the land of his effections. Tall as the pine tree in the forests. Straight as the arrows of the Dakotas, Is our faithful schoolmate Jennie, Who has fought and won the struggles Of the school life in the past. Of the honors that are won. She it was who never whispered When the many numerous voices Called to her and tried to tempt her. Great men die and are forgotten. Wise men speak, their words of wisdom Perish in the ears that hear them. But Ralph’s voice shall always linger In our thots and in our memories And a picture shall go with it Of a lad with rosy blushes, lie it was who tried to conquer All his lessons and his labors. And his mind did always wander Toward the Held of his ambition. To be pastor of his people. Then there’s Mayme who dwells among us. Quiet as a fawn in springtime, With a calm yet sweet expression. For her ways have won the children Whom she lured by tales and stories, Tales of birds and beasts of forest. Straightway down the trail came walking One who planned and talked to others. Talked of stage and its attractions. And his hearers ever listened To these tales which strangely pictured All his fancies, all his longings. You must guess him—you must know him. ’Tis the prophet of these people, Tis the writer of this legend “Farewell” we extend to friends and teacher Farewell! Oh our happy school days. All our hearts are buried with you All our thots go omvard with you, We come not back again to labor. We come not back again for pleasure, But our course shall be directed Toward the fasti y sinking sun, Toward the land of wealth and plenty. Thus our lives have just begun.