Paris High School - Chronicle Yearbook (South Paris, ME)

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TIME The pendulum swinging ever to and fro As the tides recede and then they flow, Life is marked as the pendulum swings The rising tide, then the end of things. The pendulum swings to the rise of life Then a tide of trials and battling strife, Old age is reached, but not the end For troubles are brought for the aged to mend. The pendulum never will cease to swing Those that give thought can feel its sting, When heavy weight has marked the hour, Man steps down from his days of power. The tide sets out and a boatsman guides As threadbare sails pull the scow along, Then the hour is past, the end'that's all, Heavy seas forgotten after the boatsman's call. Fern Tirrell ROADS lnere are many kinds of byways That travel up and down Some take you back to yesterday Some take you into town. The city streets are wonderful I travel them with glee But the road that leads to country life Is the only road for me. Gene Mitchell I.IFE'S PATHWAY There is always a chance in this world of sin To live a life sublime, But ever watch for him with flowery speech, Who is only marking time, Ready to crush at a single blow The efforts of the true, Tread aright in the brightest light And all will go well with you. But should you veer with the changing wind, And seem to forget the way, Wu will find it hard and your pathway barred And your friends all turned away. Fern Tirrell EMPTY DAYS Forlorn and empty stands this Wretched house, a shutter banging Idly in the wind, as if t'were wielded By some ghostly hand, upset because Life was done. The moon shines Down upon its empty eyes, and From thelsteps an echo seems to sound Of countless footsteps which shall Come no more. Gene WISDOM Wisdom, wisdom said a voice to me, Don't hold it up for all to see, Use it subtly with polite tact For all men watch how wise men act. his morta Mitchell Miriam Pulkkinen THE SOLDIERS The sunlight poured forth Through the cobwebs Sending mysterious shadows on the wall. Fearfully he watched the soldiers -- Step by step they marched by, Each in time, On and on into the day. Banners streaming People cheering. Sorrowfully, silently He turned, hobbling back to his bed. . Upon the morrow Gray skies Crutch in hand Sadly He went his way. Thousands dead, Thousands woundedl The cry burst forth to every door. His crutch in hand With tear-stained cheeks A warm smile on his lips, Grasped the sunshine -- Held tightly. His eyes reaching Into the hedvens above, He thanked God For life. Wendy Sue Thompson l

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THE MEN IN THE TRENCH The decay and the stench, Reached the men in the trench, The men far away on that hot summer day. Some were old and worn, Like their clothes, were torn. But never a cry, norqa tear from the eye, Could be seen from these men in the trench. Theirs was the lot of a Sorry sort, as the fighting was going on. They lay in the waste, Ohl The rubble and waste, Beheld by the passerby. The war had no time, took no Trouble to find, a burial place Fit for these. This was a war of atoms and steel, Fought by men of political means. Uncle Sam and the Reds, Lay awake in their beds, as their Sons died for unknown dreams. Bruce Foster REMNANTS, FRAGMENTS lashing wildly, Angrily, the waves washed over the rocks. The weather-beaten boards Bobbed helplessly in the choppy sea. Those having gone before Are never to be seen again, They remain, memories. Rem na nts -- Fragments -- A faded torn cap, One shriveled, colorless shoe, A little rag doll, These precious articles lie Baking in the sun On the sandy shores - Never to be forgotten. While -- lashing wildly, Angrily, the waves washed over the rocks. The weather-beaten boards Bobbed helplessly in the choppy sea. Wendy Sue Thompson HILLS The rolling hills lie down at night And pull up quilts of starry light, With wind as pillows for their heads, Snug, an the ground they use for beds. ln country air, their sleep is sound, Then morning wakes them on its round And stretching, reaching for the sky They let the rising sun pass by. Betty Merrill STORM AT SEA The waves roar loud, the surf breaks high The misty spray forms fountains. The clouds are gray, the wind does sigh, As ships fight water mountains. The rain quite suddenly pours down, And vivid lightning flashes. The tide is high upon the shore, The storm in fury lashes. Warren Bryant MY HOME The gleamof snow reflecting the light Which shines through the curtains of lace Holds a hand of welcome out to me, And brings a smile in to my face. It's not that building, I say to myself, Not even the lights, I confide, All material things it surely can't be, lt's the love that awaits me inside. Carole Edwards JUST DO Just open-the door in the early morn, Just hear the brook ripple by, Just draw a deep breath, Just whistle a tune, Just let out a gentle sigh, Just look at the clear blue sky above, Just glance at the bees 'round their hives, Just start out your day With a song and a smile, Just thank God that you're alive-. Jackie Jackson

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SPRING FLOWERS In spring, the flowers bloom once again At dawn they're covered with dew -- And with them comes a kind of cheer That lasts the whole year through. Betty When I was iust a little girl, I used to wonder so About the way things got so big And what had made them grow. You see I was away down low And they away up high, I then was nearer to the earth And they looked near the sky. As I look back upon my plight, I'd like to have you know What all the world was like to me 'Ere I began to grow. I saw the knobs on cupboard doors And some I opened wide. I saw the knobs on ladies knees As they passed by my side. Merrill Some legs down there were bowed and long. And some were bon thin Y And those of men were draped with cloth The truth to keep within. Jackie Jackson A POETRY ASSIGNMENT Here I sit, deep in thought My brain is all awhirl, Facing the darndest lesson Ever assigned a girl. Two poems is what the teacher asked His English class to write, But I can't find the words to rhyme I guess I'm not that bright. You'd think the way he acted 'Twas easy to compose, He'lI find I'm not Longfellow And no relative of Poe's. I'll iust hang my head in shame And hope my ranks don't fade I only hope he understands That poets are BORN, not made. A FLY AND I Upon my head a fly did light, And I that fly began to fight. He buzzed and lit and buzzed and lit, And I did squirm and duck and hit. He rose in the air and dove at my head, Looking so ferocious I darn near fled. But he missed me completely and bounced off the seat. And I turned to trample him under my feet I stepped on my toe and kicked my own shin. Then he was up and at me again. This time his whole family he brought to the fray And I felt I'd not live to the end of the day. Flies to the right of me. Flies to the left of me. . Flies all around me Buzzed and rumbled. I spat through clenched' teeth as I swung at a head. And knocked them around 'til a dozen were dead. Then I froze in the mid-swing as I heard a voice say An ode on a fly you'll write me this dayI So the rest of the period I quietly sat. Through their buzzing and biting and such as all that. And sometimes I wonder as I feel one light If they'll pick my bones clean before the dark night. Toby Averill In history we note, that so women could vote They were willing to fight tooth and nail. They would pay no heed to getting men's feed 'Till they voted, so how could they fail? Toby Averill A little rouge, a little curl A box of powder, a pretty girl. A little rain, away she goes, A homely girl with a freckled nose. Vira Pratt Jackie Jackson