Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Page 13 text:

THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 AT A HIGH SCHOOL DANCE Have you ever been to a high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance? Well, I remember one day long ago, When I went to a high school dance with my beau. The girls on the left, and the boys on the right. Wearing their best Sunday shoes, that were “Oh! so tight.” As has always been since the world began, Every girl in that room had picked her man. At the high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance. Little Susie Brown who is “oh! so thin,” Chose none other than fat Charlie Lynne. Big Lillie Carter with a pimple on her nose, Chose Archibald Mose with his classy hose. Loud Janet Hall with a dimple in her cheek, Chose Harry Ball, who is very meek. Sweet Mary Ann, of the kissable lips, Chose Frankie Marr with his bulging hips, At the high school dance, Where the girls have to beg the fellows to dance. But, Oh! what fun did we have at that dance, Where we had to beg the fellows to dance. So just think back to that time long ago, When you were one of the girls in that row. With your face and hands that were newly washed, And organdie bows you were afraid would get squashed. I’m as happy as can be That I can look back to that time and see Myself as one of the girls at that high school dance, Where the girls had to beg the fellows to dance. Ida Newman, Feb., 1923.

Page 12 text:

12 THE GOLDEN-ROD saw another, in a moment, plunge head- long down to bottomless perdition. But with the speed of light we went, and all, again, was quiet. It was a place of desolation. The very shades of the departed had melted into the ground to make it so, and all the winds were withered in the stagnant air. No vegetation showed, and nothing moved. But there was light, a sombre light, that came not from afar, but seemed a sort of fixture in itself. I looked again, and there I was alone; no other living thing in all that amplitude. The very rocks stood single and apart, and all the sound I heard was the beating of my own heart, that sent the hot blood cours- ing through my veins. My temples throbbed, and but increased my fear. I dared not move, and yet I could not stay. I longed to run, but my limbs were rigid. I tried to shriek, but my tongue was dry and parched. I wished that I could swoon, but no, I was condemned to stay thus, upright, and hear that fiery liquid palpipate within my pulse. Transfixed by fear, I could not move nor speak, but stood, another rock in this deserted waste. Cold perspiration gathered on my brow and each hair rose erect upon my head. The overpowering stillness quenched the peace of solitude and cruel silence har- rowed up my soul. How long I stayed I do not know. But at length the demon came, and broke the spell; and I found pleasure in his com- pany. How I returned, and whence, I can not tell; but what I know is this:— There is no terror like the terror of silence and desolation, and he who mocks at thunderous noise and sneers at agony will quake and fear when all is gloomy, silent, dark, and still. Gordon Watts, ’22. TEACHERS TEACHERS (a la Kipling) I have taken my fun where I have found it, I have talked and gassed in my time, I have had all species of teachers, And that’s the excuse for this rhyme. One was a half-sized teacher, One was a woman at High, They tortured me so by studies That ofttimes I thought I should die. I was a young one at Quincy, Wise as could be to begin. They all did their best to reform me. And they were as clever as sin. The first one I mentioned was Ruthy, More like a side kick she were, For she’d kick me along, till I burst into song, And I learned about teachers from her. Then I was shifted to others, Much as a wreck was I then, And I got me a live young quarrel Through refusing to write with a pen. Donald Mackay, 22.

Page 14 text:

14 THE GOLDEN-ROD THE CAPTURE OF A NIGHT-MOTH Not a breath of air was stirring. The velvety blackness studded with diamond- like stars, above. The very leaves on the trees were silent. Silently, gracefully, a night-moth flew toward me, as I sat on an old decayed log in a room of the for- est. The walls of the room were formed by alder bushes, and the green moss car- pet on the ground gave one a feeling of walking on a heavy plush carpet. The moth sailed a bit to my right, and I was able to observe its color, a pale jade green. It nearly settled on an alder leaf, then, in light, airy flight, flew high above my head, a pale green moth, whose very color made me gasp. It circled above me a few times, then flew lower, and with a long sweep of its plane-like wings flew away into the night. I followed until all trace of it was lost, then went back to the log by my lan- tern to await the attraction of another moth. I sat there for some time, then, looking suddenly toward the opening in the green walls where the moth had flown, slowly, silently, and tantalizingly out into the starry depths of the night I saw it reappear. What luck! It came slowly, gently toward me. I dared not breathe lest I should break the spell. I grasped two leaves and rested my hand on the log, near my lantern. The night-moth swerved. I was going to lose it after all. However, unexpectedly it gave a great lilt of its wings and settled on the leaves. I hastily slipped it into my case, then drew a long breath. I was fairly ex- hausted. No one can know the exaltation of such a capture except one who has that fascinating experience. E. Morgan, ’24. “BY GUM” DINNY 0, Dinny O’Brien was a lad, young and fair, A joy to his father, but his teacher’s despair, Who cuffed his red head and scolded all day, “You’ll never reach heaven, Dinny', mark what I say!” But Dinny just grinned his sly wicked smile And tossed another spit-ball down the aisle! Chorus “I may be a devil, with a head like a drum, But life is some rosy for me, yes, by Gum!” Well, Dinny grew to a fine-looking lad, Who made all the girls look wistful and sad; They smiled and they cast long languishing looks, At the fiery yroung head from behind their big books: But Dinny disdainfully sniffed, turned away, “Weak, silly creatures,” they all heard him say! Chorus “Brainless—foolish—worthless,” he’d hum, “Keep far from me, forever, by Gum!” Then eager for life and chock full of “pep,” Dinny traveled the world and made the queer “rep” Of being a roistering, howling young fiend, But pure as the youngest youngster yet weaned! But always, always, his proud boast would be, “No wily woman has ever caught me!” Chorus “In far foreign lands, or wherever I come, A woman’s smile means nothing, by Gum!” Then free as the foam on the crest of a wave, Dinny sailed back to the home of the brave; Then Ho! for the jest of life’s merry fate, For out of the crowd flashed the face of his mate,— A rosy young face and roguish blue eyes,— And captured his heart with love’s sweet surprise! Chorus “There’s something wrong! My heart’s strick- en dumb, And the world’s topsy-turvy, and jumping, by Gum!” That was ten years ago; and Dinny today, Ne’er repeats his proud boast in the old cocky way, For, like all such fools below and above, Dinny learned of the sweetness of a woman’s pure love; And tenderly clasping his little ones fast, He tells of his foolish, dark, wicked past! Chorus “I’ve lived the life of the pirate bum, But give me love, that’s all, by gum! M trrill C. Or swell, ’22.