Queens University of Charlotte - Coronet / Edelweiss Yearbook (Charlotte, NC)

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Class Poem Alay — and the birds are singing- Fresh green are the trees and grass, And the swift flying months are bringing Xew things to our Senior Class. Long years we have been just school-girls From the time of our A. B. C, Our multiplication, lunch and curls — Through high school and rule of three. Green Freshmen — with hair neatly braided And tied with a ribbon or so. Who — cheeks glowing, arms heavy laded Walked to school with our very first beau. Then Sophomores, bold and haughty A ' ith our end almost in sight W ' e had no time to be naughty Hut studied with all our might. The Junior — through College ages — Is called the love-sick class And we — well — we were not sages — But merely — the average lass. And now our last year is ended — The dearest, and sweetest and best — And we grieve as we put it behind us In the past, too, with all the rest. Xo longer as school girls, half playing. Seeing Hfe half as fun, half as work. But as soldiers in life s field of battle Not one duty daring to shirk. So we bid a farewell to each classmate And our eyes are half blinded with tears As we wish her the very best blessings In the rush of the on-coming years. And though they bring joy or sorrow I know in each heart there will be Tender love for the Class of ' 07 And our dear Alma Mater P. C. Dorcas Lott ' 07. 17

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Senior Class History 4 4 ' ■ The twenty members of this class are all that are left of Forty Freshmen who started out so bravely in 1903. In the Sophomore year, nearly half fell by the wayside. Tn the Junior year thev t ook to themselves win s and flew. One of our Seniors, who ventured to wear her insignia of dignity too soon, succumbed to the scarlet fever scare, and departed to other regions. Only seven of us have survived the long and perilous journey from Freshman to Senior ; and these seven naturally think that what they do not know about the College and its customs is not worth knowing. In our young days we used to think that to wear the Senior cap and gown would be the height of human happiness. We could hardly wait for the time to come. But now the cares and responsibilities of this life are so grievous that we are turning gray before our time. We sigh for the Junior days that we were once so anxious to leave behind, and realize to our sorrow that things are not what they seem — no, not even being a Senior. But there are compensations. The lower classes look up to us with awe and reverence, and Ijelieve that we know everything. We imagine that the Faculty is very fond of us, and the delusion does us no harm, thougli it is only a delusion. And when we leave College, we may look back and realize that our Senior days were not so bad after all. M. O., ' 07.

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Prophecy When Springtime was at its loveliest, and the air sweetly perfnmed w,ith wild honeysuckle, I strolled along a winding path which led 1 knew not whither. By the side of the path a clear-flowing stream hurried to the sea ; and as I watched the onward sweep of shimmering water 1 wondered w hat would he tlie fate of our dear old Senior Class. When I grew tired of walking, close by the stream I spied a cool and shady nook under a drooping old willow : there I rested, but what did I see! . 11 around me grew those dainty little flowers, the sangninaria, better known as l)lood root; this flower grows in the shape of a cup and possesses the most delicate odor. In this fragrant bower of green and white, — our class colors, verily, — I sat witli bowed head, and meditated long and earnestly. Wdien at last 1 did lo( )k up, the tender little leaves shivered strangely, rustled by a whirling wind ; the dainty flowers, wide open now, nodded and beckoned wildly, as if trying to tell me a magic secret; the willow brandies bent closer around me and a voice far ofl: ' and eerie at the first, then ever nearer and clearer thrills my soul with its deep unearthly sum- mons Mortal Maiden, listen! Weary thyself no longer over the ])roblem of life, f(jr now will I solve it for thee, thou shalt glance into the wonderful l)ook of fate and see where thy colleagues will be five years from now. Kind Muse, speak on ! said T rejoicing. Thereupon the wonderful, echoing voice began to tell the fortune of our dear class president: A ncjble girl, known for kind deeds, her originality and wit, whose ambition will lead her to do much, though while studying Ethics she was slightly affected i8