Polytechnic High School - Polytechnic Student Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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-iw Y lllll -llglllll-ll-lllll 'Tis the mind that makes the body rich. i F Taming of the Shrew Act IV Scene 3 ulllinillullininnnu THE BOY, SHAKESPEARE Edna A. Hull Yes, once upon a time he, too, was a boy, a real flesh and blood boy, not at all unlike our own small brothers, Tom or VVilly, who keep us continually smil- ing at their flights of fancy Cbehind their backs, of coursej, wondering about their next prank, and sometimes try our patience sorely. IK: Ill: ll? if Sl! fl? 9? The Boy is the first to be heard in the household. Up with the lark, his merry voice calls from the garden to his sluggard brothers. Off for a run in the early sunshine with his trusty hound, Fangs, he is back again before the family gathers for the bountiful breakfast. At six the Boy is due at the Guild House school. He is a. sturdy little fellow, cap pulled off, blond curls blowing in the breeze, bright eyes dancing, 'l' 1' if with his Satchel And shining morning face, creeping like a snail Unwillingly to school. ' ' The way is long, but there are many things to see and hear. The sunny meadows are far more interesting than the old school room, the language of the birds, and bees, and streams so much easier for the Boy to understand than dry Latin verbs. 'Tis the hardest task to be on time. The Boy loiters as long as he dares, but the penalty for tardiness is too dreadful to consider so he man- ages to arrive at six. In the class room until nine, then a breath of fresh air, a few minutes to devour hurriedly a crusty tart, and he is off for a hasty game of hide-and-seek. Now the search starts, one by one, each hiding place is found. But where is the Boy? The master calls to lessons, and still he is missing. The boys start in reluctantly, loath to acknowledge that the Boy has again outwitted them. But look! There he is, laughing in glee from the doorway. He knows they will never think to look for him in the school-house. The afternoon drags on. Long before the sun has neared his journey's end, the Boy, a restless youngster, no more able to concentrate histhoughts at his master's bidding, is about some ingenuous prank, his clever little brain alone saving him from discovery. By six the shadows lie in broad lines across the benches, and their small occupants are speeding homeward, their long day over. Such were the school-days in which the Boy learned his 'tsmall Latin and less Greek. SF if Ill 'lf 1: if if The Boy screws his eyes up tight that night. He must get to sleep as soon as possible to hasten the coming day and its wonders in store for him at Kenil- 28

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worth Castle. Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, is coming and he will see her. For days he has listened in his father's shop to tales of the old men. Evening after evening he has cajoled his mother to tell him stories of the Good Queen, her beautiful ladies and gallant courtiers. Now the day has come. The old gate keeper has found a place where the Boy and his mother may see the glorious pageant while his father leaves them to perform those services due from the Bailiif of Stratford. As they wait, nothing escapes the observing eyes and quick ears of the eager Boy. He must needs ask the burly porters a thousand and one questions on as many subjects. Who is this? Why does he do that? Can he go up those stairs? What will he find there? What are those men doing? Have they ever seen the Queen? ls she so very different from his mother? Does she like boys? Can he go down and play in the stream? Have they ever seen fairies? And so on, until the porters are well-nigh exhausted. Hour after hour they Wait. The day is fast approaching night when a great hush goes over the throng, then a growing rush of applause. High above, from an upper casement, the Boy watches, spell-bound. The sight is far more gorgeous than he has ever dreamed. He hardly dares draw a breath for fear the scene may vanish. The Queen-how wonderful she is! She is actually talking to the Earl of Leicester, whom the Boy has once seen riding in the hunt over the meadows near Stratford. Elizabeth's long train of courtiers stretch away as far as he can see. Now she is within the castle 's walls. She is crossing the long bridge lighted bright as day by the glare from the torches. She stops, and barges, like bits of fairy land, float out into the stream, bearing pretty maidens and sending forth balls of fire which . . . Shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea-maid's music. But at last it is over. Such a holiday! Will there ever be another so magnificent? ' SF ik ilk Il! Il fl: if The Boy has slipped away into the twilight after supper with his old friend Fangs. Under the greenwood tree, VVho loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet birds' throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. He lies on the bank of the dreaming Avon. The warning note of the curfew Hoats up the river and falls on unheeding ears. The wonderful harvest moon has risen, slowly, above the farther bank, and fills the wood with long ropes of ever shifting light and shadow, like fairies at play. Suddenly the Boy gazes in wonder. They are fairies! They come trooping in from behind tree and bush, from under fallen boughs, and across the green. In rapture, he watches them dance as daintily as a summer breeze. Now they pause, each fairy balances herself airily upon a fragrant blossom, a blue violet, a primrose, or golden daifodil. But who is that gay elf who suddenly appears in their very midst? 29