Richmond Hill High School - Archway / Dome Yearbook (Richmond Hill, NY)

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IN ITSELF e e T e e RUTH sl-1AP1Ro,'a4 nn uma 1. in own pub., and in im!! Can make a Hunn ol Hell, 1 HQH ol Heaven. John llilton Jonathan Benjamin Smith, as he wearily dragged himself to his job, mused on the drab monotony of his life. Every morning he must rise, dress, grab a bite to eat, and hurry to work. Then the usual routine tasks and back again to his dingy home and lonely bed. And this must go on and on, dull gray day after dull gray, day till he was too tired to work and too old to enjoy the pleasures leisure could bring. The interminable years stretched onward, bleak and bare and forbidding. Life, he reflected sadly, isn't worth living. Everything is ugliness, poverty, and toil. Such things as beauty and romance all died with the fairies thousands of years ago. It is futile to struggle, futile to hope. . Ah well, what's the use? So, with his eyes cast down, Smith continued on his way. It was autumn. In the pale blue kies, the Heecy clouds looked like ilufls of soft white down blown by a baby's breath. The trees in the park were splashes of gold, orange, green, and crimson-a riot of color that looked as though a mischievous monkey had gotten hold of Nature's paintbox and were trying to see what he could do in the way of art. The cold was a delightful spice after the listless summer. Lolena, lovely queen of the nymphs that inhabit Forest Park, sang as she rose that morning. Fall's tonic went to her head, and made her giddy with desire to laugh and dance. She stood on tiptoe to drink it in, stretching her hands high above her head. p Beauty like this, she thought, brings man and gods ,closer together. Today I shall make a human as happy as I am. I shall grant a man his heart's desire. i So, perching on top of a maple that overhung the sidewalk she waited. Presently Smith, musing drearily on his hard lot, ap- proached. Lolena, smilingly taking aim, dropped a scarlet' token to attract his attention. ' Smith looked vaguely at the iluttering bit of color. Only a leaf, he sighed, and, eyes still downcast, lost forever his chance.

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footfalls broke the pregnant silence. Someone was entering the room, but no form, human or otherwise, was silhouetted against the door frame. ' One of the men grasped his fast-failing courage and managed to gasp a: 1 'Who's there?' But no answer came to him. Determined to face it out, Maria rose and, stepping forward, slowly approached the footfalls. The steps ceased. 'Do you want something?', Maria's quavering voice fell upon the straining ears of the frightened group. And then came the answer: 'I am looking for my lost blood.' Clear, heavy words came from nowhere. The startled Maria paled, fell slowly backwards and huddled in a chair. The clear footfalls .traveled across the room. In a large basket among other soiled clothes, rested the blood- caked sheet which had received the body of Peter. As we fear- ridden people watched, the blood slowly drained from the cloth and disappeared, until the linen was once again clean and unsullied. Then the steps turned again to the door. We within seemed to hear a whispered intonation, and then silence softly spread its comfort- ing cloak about us. My town was never again visited by any supernatural visitors and soon after this harrowing experience I sailed for America. At the end of this tale, no matter how many times I have heard it, I stop to think. As I look around at the faces of the other listeners I see doubt and belief struggling for supremacy on their features. Although it is said that ghosts and spirits are figments of imagina- tion, still, when I hear stories like this one, I almost believe that such things do exist. REGRET Oh rarely have I waked in the lead-gray of dawn And wept for the deeds forgotten, glories of lambs shorn- But no-I've'sat up nights, my eyes dry with dead tears, And cursed myself for things undone U through all the years. Lily Sinowitz, '34 THE sermon Dom: Page7 ?J

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LOLENA, Queen of the Nymphs Margaret Oswald