Prairie Du Chien High School - Blackhawk Yearbook (Prairie Du Chien, WI)

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N. GUNDERSON f NNA DOUGLASS THE FACULTY

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G r Go blow, thou little Zephyr, blow g Go take thy little spin, Blow out the stack of bills we owe, C And blow the shekels in. J Go twist, thou little twister, twist . But may the little gale I Leave only smiles and cheerful grins f| And laughter in thy trail. 9

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HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL In our debating and in our joking And they clapped at each new stunt Till our stunts were all exhausted Then we started Contest work. Searching everywhere for pieces Then we drilled and drilled and drilled Till on Thursday, March the third, We did hold our local Contest , And the winners, Roy and Mona Met the winner from the valley For each tribe along the River Sent their winners to our city Sent with them the chief supports To cheer and help their tribe to win. They were sent from Muscoda, Spring Green, From Richland Center and Avoca And from Lone Rock to Prairie du Chien. To the school that won the contest Should be given a brilliant banner Banner bright in red and gold. Oh! the wildness of the cheering That tore asunder the night-air When after the declamations Prairie’s people led the race. Joyfully we placed the banner, The bright banner in our High School Where each day we see this banner Banner won for P. D. C. After contest we devoted much of time and energy, To produce a High School play. To present it to the people. Then a tennis court was marked out Where the girls did strive for honors. In the few weeks more remaining We’ll have base ball Saturdays. The Juniors, too, will give their banquet Then our grave and reverend Seniors Take their leave of this, their High School. After that the year is finished. All that’s left of this our school year Are the memories each one holds Of the things of nine and ten. Ij a i 0 w 0 As one who sails the ocean to some distant sunny land I cross the sea of mem’ry till in ecstacy I stand-On the silent shores of fancy, my eyes again behold The forms of friends once dearest—some now dust and cold. I think I hear the school bell and see the fellows wait To throw the ball a block away then come in slightly late; And mingling with the blazes that in the fireplace rise I see the frown that greets them as they try to show surprise. I see among the shadows that flicker on the wall The faces of the teachers, and as thev rise and fall I wonder if they’re wrinkled, and if their hair is gray, Or have they gone to join the dead to sleep till Judgment Day. I see again the Glee Club, and close my eyes and hear The songs that were the sweetest, and to me are ever dear; And while I sit and listen, a moisture fills my eye And I vainly wish for the thousandth time, that our school days would never die. But ah! those days have vanished and never shall return Those friends are gone forever-numbered among God’s own; But until I’ve crossed the river to the silent realm of death, Their memory shall be with me, and cherished as my breath. Roy Hurley, 1950.