Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

Page 33 text:

To the Wild Mustard G'irst Prize Lower Class Serious PoemJ You bloom where the barley hedges Grow tall in the sun and dew. 1 End in the low marsh sedges You. spreading your golden hue. Bright flashes of gold in the meadows Betray your sweet presence there. And the gloom of the woodland shadows ls dispelled by your blossoms fair. Adrift are your golden petals, When Springs gentle smiles are seem More rich than the shining metals Of Rand in a bright sunbeam. From whence came thy gold 50 pure? Could the sunshine impart so free Such a radiance, or did God insure The gift of such gold in thee? V. HASKINS, '16. vrhurcy-nue;

Page 32 text:

I love to lie, when weary, on the sand, And watch the sun sink low o'er yon dark hill. Leaving the Heavens afiame with color, till A twilight shadow creeps o'er all the land. A change comes now, as if a signal from on High. And all the air a restful stillness: holds. And e'en the wild waves with song once bold. Now seem to croon an evening lullaby. And while I marvel at this wonder scene, I feel a calm steal o'er my troubled thought. A fairy spell, wrought by a hand unseen. And then I see, that 'tis the peace I sought. Now, care. doubt, fear, all, I dare mock. For He is ever watchful of His Flock. ELIZABETH MGCONNELL. ll4. Whiny;

Page 34 text:

Perturbmdi SurnuH Uritst Prize Lower Class Humorous PoemJ Alas; our young affections run to wasteV-J' ln the City of Long Beach, On the great PaciEc seashore. In the High School of the City. ln the Polytechnic High School Where the teachers work like Clemons. Into adamantinc brains of students To inatil the facts so needful. To instil some common sense For the fighting of life's battles, Can be found all manner of person Who in the strenuous. mystic future Will be teacher, lawyer, doctor. Socialist. suffragette and rubber. In fact all manner will he found From the horny-hanclecl son of toil To the wan, dyspeptic law designer. But to the one of whom I'm speaking ls the future black as night; Into the dark, uncertain abyss Of the days to come he gazes; Sees no light to cheer his pathway, Sees no footsteps to he followed. Life is but a hollow mockery. But an empty, idle living. But an endless chain of sorrow. But a tearful journey to the tomb? Why is this, you ask me, wondeling Why a youth of eighteen winters Sould wait so gladly for the tomhl I shall tell the sad. sad reason. Tell you why life lies before him Like a boundless. dreary desert. I shall tell you as he told ITIH In a class room of this High School, Right across the aisle from me Sat a maid of sixteen summers. She was like an apparition. hThirty-Twol