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

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Shr iRimr of Ibp (Ulaao of Z It is an ancient pedagogue. And he stoppeth ladies three, “By thy ancient beard and stern gray eye, Now wherefore may this be? “The assembly doors are opened wide And we are going in; For Nineteen Sixty’s class is met Diplomas fair to win.” He holds them with a skinny hand, “There was a class,” quoth he, ‘That years ago was just as fair As the one you are now to see. “Oh, Class of ’12! Long years have passed, Since merrily we went To the brick school-house up on the hill, Where happy hours we spent. ‘Oh listen to my stirring tale Of the class of famous nine, Whose study hard, day after day, Made not their hearts repine “Our President, bold, gallant Lloyd Pursued he was by pretty girls, Fast autos, large, he loved and—yea, His countless, light brown curls. ‘A pretty lass was Hazel bright; Her lips were red, her hair was black, Tho’ artless and demure her mien, In mischief still she did not lack. “A farmer’s boy was Ward B. Large, A boy so rich, forsooth, That candy had he to dispense, This tall, broad-shouldered youth.

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CLASS SONG. Tune: Silver Threads Among the Gold. Teachers, Friends and Schoolmates too, We must bid farewell to you, Joyfully we’ve hailed this day, Which will start us on life's way. And yet we feel a sadness too, Flooding our hearts with feelings true, For now no more will Autumn tell To us the scenes we love so well. Chorus: We will lift our voices clear and strong, Love lights the path we’ve known so long, Hope will gild our future’s way, Hail to our Commencement Day. And now on parting we must raise, A song in Alma Mater's praise, May Fortune smiles upon her cast. And loyal men stand at her mast. And if ever she should need. Friends in thought or word or deed, She may look back on the class, Whose love for her will always last. —Bessie Cragoe.

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‘Though many men are beautiful, With Rob could none compete, His oratory was superb, His smile, like honey, sweet. “Young Harry! independent, strong, Heedful he of his attire, A rich bass voice had he, But was too shy to join the choir. ‘0 blithe, original Marie, A talker great was she, And in each cheek a dimple gleamed When deigned she to smile on me. “Della was a brown-eyed miss, With measured tread and thoughtful brow. For themes her name was famous then, But far more famous now. “From lips of Bess, sweet music flowed Like whispered from the sea, Light was her hair, and blue her eye, Her walk as stately as could be. “And last there was calm Howard, A friendly, goodly lad. He loved to study hour by hour And owned no silly fad. ‘The noted class of 1912, Oh, happy was its life, Yet think not that it was without Its troubles, quarrels and strife. “Farewell, Farewell, ye ladies three, Your eyes with kindness light, And when ye enter yonder door, Think of the Class of ’12 so bright.” —Della Parduhn.