Petersburg High School - Missile Yearbook (Petersburg, VA)

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MSR gylllddifaln V V Cherolee, cherolee, cherolee, Answered then the lady bird. ' Oh, this poor trusting heart of mine Is just longing to be thine. This I'm sure you've often heard. lnfidelity If you should ever cease to care for me, And from my loving arms should turn away To tell me then that it could never be, I would not care to live another day, And from this place I'd ever Wish to roam, Ne'er to return. My life would empty beg An aching voidg no love, no faith, no home, No port to come to in a storm at seag No hopes, no joys, no aims for which to live, My fond hopes blighted if you fail me when I look to you for love, for strength to give Me day by day which only death can end. But though these things in fancy now I see, I really know they ne'er will come to me. The Waterfall Over the ledges Leaping and lashing, Rushes the waterfall. Colors flashing Forth in the sunlight, Dazzling in hue: A wonder that nature Displays for you. an-mnnmnumuunununnnnnunnmummunn Page fourteen

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Y Y Q me IIIIIIIPIIDOIIIIMQIHIHIIII IIIIIIIHIIVIIllllllllllllllIIIIOINIIIIIIillllllvlllllvlvlllldlllllllI1IllINIIItIllllllllllllllllllltllilIllblIIIIIIIIIIllllllllllllllllllllllllIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPINOilllllllllllllltlllllIIIIllllllllllllllllllllllll desolate. The nameless terrible fear in Henriette's eyes haunted him constantly. To his tortured mind, the burning eyes stared at him from every page he tried to read. He would take from his vest the locket which contained a lock of her hair so dread- fully stained, and stare at it for hours. It was too much for his reason. In six months Viloque was quite mad, harmless but such a tragic wreck of a man. But what of Gregge Menet? Rejoiced over the recovery of Marie, he felt vaguely sorry about Viloque. But at this time all Paris was going mad, so there was little enough time for Grigge's stupid mind to dwell on his own feelings. His only two emotions were fierce love for Marie and an ever fiercer ha- tred of all the upper classes. Perhaps his dull fanatical brain was incapable of remorse. But at the time of the Terror, he rectified his deed, in his own mind at least. He saved the life . . . the anguished, tortured, useless existence of the mad Duc de Viloque. 11 Poems By Eleanor White A Token of Spring Cherolee, cherolee, cherolee, Sang the happy little bird, As from out his pretty throat Came this tender little note, That I'm sure you've often heard. Happily, happily, happily Sang the amorous little birdie. From among the branches there, Swiftly flew his lady fair, As his pleading voice grew sturdy. Joyfully, joyfully, joyfully, Sang the contented little bird. Will your true love then entwine, This poor aching heart of mine? Then his voice is plainly heard. nxmmnumumnunum ll 1 IH Page thirteen .

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Golden Moments a By Martha Williamson HAT chime clock was deceitful from the very first day of '7 ifl its arrival into the family. One of mother's oft-repeated desires had been fm- ally fulfilled. She had always said she'd rather have a Westminster chime clock than anything else she knew. A Due to this fact, she may have been suspicious of the of a rectangular cardboard box on first sight, the day ,- if S rif'f'5fE.3S . , i 1 . contents the gift was delivered to the house . Indeed, that was the thing we feared most, since it was yet a week before we wished to spring the surprise on her. All hope of the surprise, on the expected day, was im- mediately abandoned when Ccursed tyrantlj the clock began a series of tinklings and ding-dongs just at the crucial moment. I had somehow managed to get the thing smuggled past the prospective recipient, but, on lifting it to its hiding place, I was so careless as to tip it to one side-not much-but just enough to allow the individual parts of its mechanism to jolt against each other. Fatal error! It was now too late to make any ef- fort to silence it. Mother had heard it and was overjoyed. Un- happily, she was the only one who greeted the sound with de- lighted exclamations. You can see why I should be prejudiced against the diabol- ical machine from the start. Furthermore, it has continued its pranks unto this very day. It has an exceedingly annoying habit of telling me that it is time to get up when I am reasonably sure that I couldn't have slept more than ten minutes. However, on turning on the radio to verify my opinion, the announcer fvery cheerfully for such an early hourj settles the wordless dispute by saying, It is now exactly seven thirty-two, Eastern Standard Time. The correct time is brought to you through the courtesy of .... blah, blah, blah . . . The clock realizes its triumph and deliberately sends forth a derisive tinkle, tinkle. Here is my turn to sneer, for the iiendish thing has long since become lazy and refuses to strike until at least two minutes after it should. If I should happen to be enjoying myself and wishing that there were nothing to indicate the passing minutes, this only spurs the gloomy timepiece on to tick off the seconds at break- mmlmmmmmnunnummumnnumumnumummnnmnnvnnnunmnunummnnmmnnum nnummnunnnmmmnnnmvI1nnmnmnuununn n nlnv n 1 In 4 mln n Page fifteen . v V 9fill.S