Queens College - Silhouette Yearbook (Queens, NY)

Page 144 text:

We, tice people We've seen the ugly pageant of war, heard bombs shriek, seen men die. We see it now. Yet we still dare to dream of a better World, We, the people. We have marched through centuries beneath the yoke of dictators. We have felt the best part of world hurt. We feel it now. Yet We still dare to dream of a better world, We, the people. I, Tom Jefferson, have dreamed of a better world. And I, Abraham Lincoln, have dreamed the same dream. And I, Walt Whitman, have told of it in poetry. And We are the people. I, who till the lields, have dreamed in the quiet dusk after work. And I, who bear men into the world, have rested after labor And have shaped visions of things to come. And we too are the people. T Of what do we dream, we foolish ones, who seek after wraiths and would give them body? We dream of a new World . . . We dream of a world of free men, who can face the dawn without terror. For there is no terror in a peaceful land. We dream of a World of kind men, who find strength in mutual dependence. For love is a bond invincible. We dream of . . . Tall cities, white in the sunshine Gleaming with clear, bright windows And the sound of a thousand voices lilling the air with music, The music of strong men working, The songs of children at play, The singing of happy women.

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Page 145 text:

And of men seeking wisdom, freely. And black men, white men and brown Equal and living in harmony. And of quiet evenings and darkness And only the stars overhead. And of rulers, the tools of the people And the voice of the people, the law. And of schooling to breed sane opinion To teach all the meaning of freedom, To teach all what tolerance is, To teach all how closely love knits And the ugly disunion of hate. We dream of . . . A shining new world Stripped of all old world dress. Of a world new clad by the people In the people's garb of-Peace. That's what we dream, O you doubters, And we know the futility of dreams Dreamed without hope of achievement . . . But the folk do not dream that way. Our dream is the goal we seek, The goal we seek and shall find, though it mean o ones. For the people are an endless procession Breeding through time to its end And we who die are but straws Riding the wind that shall sweep the world And strip it of old world dress. Till it emerge new clad by the people In the people's garb of-Peace. ur lives and our loved l4l