Plymouth High School - Pilgrim Yearbook (Plymouth, MA)

Page 31 text:

THE PILGRIM 27 iii ls W I-IURRAH! A HOLIDAY! AS the years roll on, our great holi- days, both national and interna- tional, are gradually losing their mean- ing. The significance of each holiday is being obscured in a morass of celebra- tion. To the schoolboy, a holiday is a glad- some event, mainly because that day is one on which he may escape from school and amuse himself as he pleases. To the worker, a holiday means a few mo- ments of surcease from toil and care. To the housewife and moth-er, alas, a holi- day is not a day of rejoicing, but of work. Usually she must prepare a hearty meal whiile attempting to sub- due exuberant childish spirits. One of the holiday attractions is the creaking festive board. Our principal holidays are almost entirely celebrated with large dinners. In fact, Thanks- giving is looked forward to mostly be- cause of the noble turkey. The custom of eating a lavish meal originated with the Pilgrims, but the thankfulness of our forefathers is forgotten when we plunge into the festivities. Christmas, originally the most solemn celebration of the Christian world, has degenerated into an orgy of gift-giving. The children of today first associate Christmas with the mythical figure of Santa Claus. The presentation of gifts has its association with the first Christ- mas, however, presents are now the major part of our greatest holiday. Somehow, in the mad rush of a depart- ment store at Christmas time, one sees only a mob of avid shoppers hastening to comiplete a disagreeable task as soon as possible. The Christmas gift should satisfy a long-felt Want and should be given selflessly. Too often, he who gives the present merely proposes to surpass the gift which he hopes to receive in return. While the store-made Christmas is very lovely, the home-made Christmas is often more satisfying. Althougwh we still sing carols and somewhat retain the spirit of good-will, the true significance of Christmas has been lost. In the hustle and bustle of the modern world, we find less and less time to devote to sentiment. Surely this day of the year should be commemorated as well as celebrated. On Easter Sunday, a day celebrated throughout the world as a holy day, thousands of Women who do not regu- larly attend church, come to services. The majority of these women come, not because they feel any speoial significance in that day, but because they want to exhibit a new spring ensemble. Chill winter winds may blow, yet only a bliz- zard can prevent the fashion parade be- fore and after services. The choir may sing with the sweetness of angels, the organ may whisper or thunder its ex- ultation, the minister may rise to the pinnacle of eloquence, but all to often Mrs. Smith is distracted by the fact that Mrs. Jones is arrayed in a hat iden- tical to th-at one which she hers-elf wears. Perhaps Memomorial Day is commem- orated with more authentic emotion than any other holiday. Yet, even on the day reserved for urs to reverence the memory of our soldiers, some thought- less individuals consider the time ap- propriate for packing a picnic basket and going for a ride. It is not necessary that one be prig- gish or unduly solemn in the celebration of holidays. However, somehow the spirit with which our forefathers in- tended the holidays to be invested, has been almost submerged by the material 6l6IT19I'1itS. PHYLLIS JOHNSON '37 A WOODLAND RETREAT 'Neath hooded trees of solemn mien, Through aisles unmarked by human tread, I passed alone. That sylvan scene Will long be one I may recall When thinking of what might have been. In calm profound the still retreat Seemed e'er to echo every step As I advanced with eager feet. I was a mere intruder there So far from noise and busy street. The inspirational appeal Of woodlands clad in wintry garb Is something one cannot but feel. The silence and the church-like air Make worldly troubles seem unreal. Thelma Bentley '37

Page 30 text:

'THE PILGRIM Q ,. g ,gf ' fjvjjRAYER uv Spmwq c aff Jfhfjgvyxw aka ,df0l!fZ'YZllQll6 ,farm Zn! bgwlflh fad f, mmf Even. Qfzj Ayr Hinvfgofizjzz the Qzchfzz' Jcene, Wd kan' any an ouz ffqioafgf Mu . Offfng fiery, wb? af on our vaja, VM cud ua fh zZ caMfzy4 W amy. Ere u: that pilffkdsf Madam 250 ,waife much than M62 kafznf 216 aze not nffke, oan dlIdL!l7766,CZl1d0llZ af Lfaaufef 7? ,vzyz Zope, foezchwce 55331 fifilk , 75 fauik, fa 4017, fo dance 121 cazefzee fxzyfe me 40 fhzloodfanf fo Lllyeff-5002164 mf amy fn mfwnez 6y14?ue fhefejqy4f51fez1J my fifdzfdilef Q ML 7 Q!akz'eou.flwJ, MW ua Z Dyht, End Ego Mife vfffzfh aaa J0llAf fic wife Mi keai y'fajewe:.1 Mai bums Quz Qlwdffbh gem . Q14 ye 'j1!'f KX.fx A? FQ!!! l!4:DW'V OW0 .A

Page 32 text:

28 THE PILGRIM Junior Poetry Page 'IIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllllllllllllIllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllIIUIIIIllllllIllllllllIIIIII!IIIIIIIIIIIlllllllllllllIllllllilllllllllllllllllIIlllllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIZIIIIIIIIIIllllllIIIIllIIIIIllIIIIIIIllllllllllllllllllllb TREES 2 VOLCANO 5 fWith apologies to Joyce Kilmerj E Sultry, sullen, E I think that I shall never see E Grumbling, roaring, E A sight more wretched than a tree. E A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed 2 With signs of, 'tHomer's Tourist Rest g 5 A tree who looks at cars all day 2 And shouts, Good eats one mile away , 5 A tree that may in summer wear 5 Garage signs-some here, some there, 2 Upon whose bosom snow has lain E Above the carving, Tom loves Janef' E Signs are nailed by fools like me, ij But only God can make a tree. g Boiling and seething- , E Smoking, furious, 5 Mad with power, E A raging beast-impri-soned- E Steaming with rage g Until it is loose. E Then it crawls down the crater side, E Like many serpents, ' 5 Writhing, stealing ever closer E Upon the sleeping village E At its side. 25' It envelops everything in lava- E Like the sinister potent of an evil witch 2 Pleased with destructiong g Bubbling with pleasure, it hesitates, E And cools to a hard black crust, E Which hides from the view of man g The evil Work. E Elizabeth Anderson E Eileen Payson E .IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIQLIIIIKIIIIIIlIIIIIIHIHIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIllIIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIVIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIllllIIIIllIIIIIlIIIIIIIIIllIllIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIE 5 ANGLING E E A summer day, a rod and line, a dozen hooks E Q or so E g A can of bait. With all these things, guess 5 E where a boy would go! E .ng No other sport could equal itg and what more Q E would you wish E ' Than just to go to Riley's Pond to spend the 5 E day and fish? E R E I like to sit upon the bank, as quiet as can be. E Q And watch the water smooth and still, until a Q 5 sign I see E 5 That means I have a bite, and then, of course, E E I pull the line Q 3 And catch a Blue Gill or a whale-or maybe g E eight or nine. f E There is no joy like fishing on a sunny sum- E E mer's day, E Q To take your rod and line and hook, and pass Q E 4 the hours away - E And think of only pleasant things, with all your E E worries gone. - Say, get your old straw hat, I'm goin' fishin', E 5 boys, come on! n Vernon Kirkey 'IIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIlllllIIIIIIIIIIllIIIIIIIIllllllllllIlllilIUlllilIlilllILLIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllllllIllllIIIIIIIIIKIIIIIIIIIIllIIllIIIl-EllIII!llllIllllIIllllIIlllIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIQ E TO A FARMER E Scurrying madly through the streets, E As bees drone to their hive, 5 Onward in the scorching heat E To a day behind factory walls- 5 And you, farmer, are not satisfied. E Yours is the quiet peaceful life :Q With the sun the stars the sk ... s 1 yn' E You do not know the laborer's strife E Nor long hours behind grim walls, 3 And yet, you are not satisfied. : Yours is the kind of life- , 3 Utopia come true, - Your days with nature all are spent, E Your love of man will never die, 5 E Oh, farmer, do you wonder why?-we envy you. E E Florence Canucci R .4 FLOOD ' E Swirling waters, black and swelling, S Drifting wreckage-some man's dwellingg E Shrieking wind, bleak and blowing, 5 Angry river banks o'erflowingg E Quaking people, sick with dread, E Floating bodies, cold and dead, E Blazing fires red and flaming, ig Disease and illness death proclaimingg E Human sufering, pain, and blood,- 5 All are caused by a river's flood. E Jeanette Hatton ,, gilllllllIIIIIIKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllllIllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIllllllllllllIIIZJIIIIIIIIIIIIIJIIIEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKIIIllllllllllllllIllllllllllllllllllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIF