Port Allegany Union High School - Tiger Lily Yearbook (Port Allegany, PA)

Page 26 text:

 Junior’s $tobress to tfjc Seniors (With apologies to Spartacns.) Ye call them Seniors; and ye do well to call them Seniors who for four long years have met within their classrooms every kind of knotty problem the learned members of our faculty could give them, and who never yet have been outwitted. And yet they were not always thus,—dried-up bookworms, walking dictionaries, the most learned in the High School. Their Freshman year was as peaceful as the graveyard next which they sat, and many times, in pleasant weather, as they gazed out at the granite stones and green grass, they were called back to their problems by the tapping of the desk bell or the footsteps of a teacher. But when they, who passed the examinations, were promoted and called Sophomores, they were moved from the windows to a more central position where the teachers had a better chance to observe their antics, and those antics were peculiar; its surprising to remember just the way they spent the study periods and the way they got their lessons. It’s surprising how they managed to achieve the means that made them be called Juniors. Yet they gained that noble title; gained that and another privilege—they were placed on the other side of the center aisle, in hopes that they could better note the actions of the Seniors and profit by it. Yes, they profited, ’tis evident, for today they’re changed and altered. They have put away childish things and have lost their foolish notions; lost them, but have gained more notions—notions wise, uplifting, noble, worthy to be called ideas. And so now we call them Seniors; not because they’re so much older, but because they’re so much wiser, and their actions so much better. —M. V. ’14.

Page 25 text:

ikntor’g Hament J• Going,—the great round Sun, Dragging our Senior Days Over into the past and gone, Over into our yesterdays Dying. Coming—Life’s brilliant noon, Silently ushered in, Wrapping itself in our deep thoughts Where our golden haired youth hath been Lying. 2. Going,—Our bright, blithe youth Lessons! How fast ye fall, Shooting out of your gloomy sky Into the sunlight all Blindly. Coming—The mellower Days, Crimson, gold and blue; Languishing sorrows and deepest joys Kissing the wrinkled brow Kindly. 3. Going— This old old life. Beautiful School, farewell! Classroom aud fountain, office and hall Ring ye the glad bells O’er us. Coming—The School of Life, Coming—a better chance; Coming—a long, long lessonless day; Coming—our grand, grand, Freedom. (Apologies to Edward A. Jenks.)

Page 27 text:

JUNIOR CLASS Upper Row.—William Naeaely, Ora! Thompson, Allvne TofTt. Christine Spraker, Bertha Spencer, Joe O'Connor, Esther McLaughlin, Mona Meeker, Ennah Olmsted, Pauline Naegely, Russel Edgar. Lower Row.—Bessie Huggler, Gretchen Black, Muriel Ventres, Mary Mulcahy, Vera Eddy, Freeda Johnson.