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

Page 24 text:

J Helen Dana Starkey '20 Like a lead you're waited upward: then you're rocking with the breeze. Out across my azure Sky-path far above the tufted trees, Sometimes you're dipping, dancing, on that sea. of turquoise blue, With the clouds for fleecy billows, and a bird to pilot you. And then you're softly slipping out beyond the sunset tires, Into my cloud cathedrals with their lofty, gilded Spires. When the sun sinks in the ocean, you are at my castle gatese At the sullen, gray old castle, Where the Princess, sleeping, waits. You are lurking in the shadow where its cells and dungeons yawn; You peer up the haunted haII-ways: then you're chef the towers 351! gone. Then youtre winging softly downward, as the night steals up the way, And the silver-fingered moonebeams come from out of the East to play. And you're down upon the Earth, from my Cloudland in the sky. How I wish that we could live there, Iittie ship, just you and Il

Page 23 text:

LITERARY 13 Slowly the Man came to realize in a dull way, that he was off the road and ignorant of directions. Feebiy kicking at the dog, he swore the cut was to blame-he was! Time after time the man fell, just slipped down easily, and each time he was slower in rising to his feet. Now and then Little Yellow Dog guided his stumbling steps at will, by merely pulling at his straps. After four hours of silent, painful progress, they came at last tn the shallow oil-sumps of the Lost Hills Fields. The Man's eyes were tight shut: the water bag Was gone. Dawn had not yet come. The dust rose in clouds and choked and blinded them. Many times the crawling pair came near to the fate of the pre- historic animals of the La Brea oil-pits-a slow, horrible, miring in the thick black oil; but the dog pulled the man aside and on-- always eastward. Finally, after ialling. the Man failed to rise after a long perioci of stillness. Little Yellow Dog barked and started away in vain time after time. A pumper, with his oil can and flashlight in hand, was making his lonely rounds from derrick to derrick on the Vulcan lease when he was suddenly startied and somewhat scared by the approach of a small, coyote-like animal. which barked in a high pitched appeal- ing tone without apparent fear, leping away repeatedly in a certain direction. Obeying an impulse, the pamper followed and found the Man , unconscious, in the first gray light of the new day. The gray old field-doetor stated that the Man , with three fractures in his skull. could never have made the eleven miles to the town-site alive but in cutting across the desert to the closer oii- camp he had saved his lifeebut we know who guided him. Littie Yellow Dog now rides on the running boarci of the Lost Hills mail-stage and the Driver lays a kind hand on the little yellow head now and then as the stage roars along the dusty desert road.

Page 25 text:

nu manna , Jennie Grace Swanson '20 I cannot fathom this strange soul, Some call my Self, that hides in me: it seems that I play just a role, While Self is chafing to be free. And oft. I wonder if I'm true. To Self, that strives to point my way: I long, and wish that I but knew Just how to be my Self, one day. I know that Self is often grieved At things I do and say and think; Yet, Self can never be deceived, Though I pretend, and let Self sink. Come forth, My Self, and let me be Forever loyal, true to thee.