Public School 173 - Hudson Yearbook (New York, NY)

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qxavsusansnvxanxnnsavsnn-sa-s.4vxns4ns4vs4vs-ns4 PI'l3l.lC SCIIOOI. 173, MAN!lA'l l'AN-JUNE, l030 wx- -s,ususavx.n ns.4n-snnsnsx.4--xanns.aus4nxnnx4 uxuxa nic wx.: Qreative Work SOPHIE CLAIRE l'IOURGll, I:'dil0r-in-Chief RUTH l..EVY SELMA ENOCH Assistant Editors GPOEMS I Have to Write a Poem I I have to write a poem, Oh! what shall I write? I have to write a poem, 'Twill take me all the night. II I have to write a poem, Oh! what shall I say? I've written my poem, How'd you like it, anyway? NVILLIAM Woo1.F, 4Al. I What VVas It I Forgot To Do? What was it that I forgot to do? I drank my milk and ate my stew, I read my book right through and through I walked a mile each day for a week, I scattered my plants till the buds began to peep, I went to school on time, For that mama gave me a dime. Ah, now I remember what I forgot to do, It was my homework, ooh, ooh, ooh! FRANCES TURNER, SA l. july Playtime Fairy flowers, Lovely bowers, The birds are gaily singing, Ting-a-ling Ting-a-ling Ilear the blue bells ringing. Woodpeckers drumming, Bees all humming, The cows are out in the clover, Grasshoppers swinging, Summer days bringing, Play that too soon will be over. MARJORY ROSSER, 3B-I. 'N- Washington Heights Where once dense forests stood And Indians used to roam And hunt through Held and wood Is the place we now call home. Where, once, the redman's gaze did fall On only field and sky, We now have schools and buildings tall And a great bridge towering high. BERNARD KLAYF, 4Al. Page Seven

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I'Ul3l.lC SCIIOOI. 173, MANl'lATTANw-IUNE, 1930 give to other pupils with their puzzling questions and surely the effort you make to receive visitors and your spontaneous speaking at the assemblies, will partly answer this question. Perhaps some of the big things that you accomplish receive no mark, perhaps, even, no one knows of your own quiet successes. That does not make them any the less important. In the real world of grown-ups no one expects a mark. Each one acts according to the best standard that he knows. It is culture that brings higher standards. Rudyard Kipling, a poet who thought of life in an ideal way, wrote: 'LWhen Earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it-lie down for an aeon or two, Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew! 'cAnd only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame, And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame, But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are! HELEN M. HYNES. 59 QL '59 if 99 4' Page Six

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sa.-Lusa--sa - PLIBLIC SCHOOL 173, MANHATTAN-IUNE, 1930 The Toy shop l It was Christmas in k the Toy Shop, And all the dolls were dressed up, Red Riding llood in her red hat and coat, And Captain Kidd with his . great big boat. Z The Dutch lJoll's apron was spic and span They all looked nice but Peter Pan, Ile was dressed in his old rag- ged suit, While Orpheus played his miniature lute. 3 A great big bear was seated there Looking at all with a very wild stare, The engines were running around and around Filling the air with Page E ight a- 'joyous sound. Doms FREEMAN, SB3. Cartier In 1534, a Frenchman sailed to Labrador, .A year later he sailed up the St. Lawrence, Which he thought, Was the river that he sought, Ile stopped at an Indian village, The Indians said, If you go any farther, l'm sure you'll fall dead. But Cartier would not sail, back to France, So the only thing was to advance, Ile sailed a little farther on his trail, And stopped at another village That had Hfty houses. as strong as a wall And this village he named lVlontreal, Ilere, a severe winter he spent, Bad nights came and bad nights went, Soon that horrible winter was over, And spring came again with its beautiful clover, And back to France Cartier did come, And he was honored by everyone. MILDRED IIANANIA, GB3. if- 9? 56 95 Freedom Teacher said that we must write, A little poem, nice and bright, This is mine, I hope that you, Will think it nice and bright, I do. jofw I-IUTTON, 4Al. 49-7959-19 The World I Oh! World, so big and full of space, What makes you turn with such great haste? Is it to make night into day? Or do you like to 'play that way? HELEN ADAMS, 6B3.