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

Page 15 text:

BREEZES ..... Tlzf lfttlf' poml was ,vtill at niglzt, fly long grfwz bram'l1f.s' tremblacl o'c'r Tha glassy .vfztrfavc, gently swffhea' By lzrnmes C!6l7ZL'1.'lZg tlzfn' at play. Tha light, c'apr1'c'io1t5 draftx that blew, All xwmfcl to Jay, Come laugh, be The worlcl islfast aslaap and knows Not what we a'o whm a'ayl1'ghtfaclf5 Bfyovzcl tha cclgf? of Jlglzt. Thom all Brvomes f'1za'ha1ztf'd, softly brlglzt, ll lzz'le tha folk appzar, to we 8035 The blitz'-ltlafle ,vtar-.vowtz rape fallfcl 5ley.,7 S0 hrefzaxv Jpoke to nw, avzcl than, Thay lfft, to coma again, I hope, To whzsper sevrfts long forgot, And larafh away all thoughts but dreams. Marguerite Baumann rg yu P

Page 14 text:

knocking on the door of a rambling farmhouse. A tall, backwoods woman opened it and stood there, speechless, staring at her in amazement. Later Ann realized why. There was a big bump over her left eye and her face was covered with blood. l-ler hair was burnt, her hands looked is if they were all red blisters, and her clothing was incredibly torn and irty. Butthen aH fXnn could dunk ofvvasthosetvvo passengerslying helpless backthere. MXN phonef'she cned shaniy. lyh phone. l muq getto a phonef' The woman, still speechless, pointed to an old-fashioned wall phone in the corner. Ann sobbed gratefully, she was strangely calm as she got in touch with the airport. VVhen atlastsheturned Honithe phone,fhnnfeltverylight-asthough a greatload hadjustshpped honihershoulders The vvoman vvasstadng curiously at her, she motioned toward a couch and said something about lying down to rest till they came. Restl lt was Ann's turn to be astonished, she vvas a stevvardess-her place vvas vvuh her passengers. Before the woman could remonstrate, Ann was out of the door and had started on her vvay back The twinkling stars were friendly now and the warm darkness shut in protectingly about her. Suddenly Ann laughed contentedly, she stopped in bevvdderment. VVhy had shelaughed? What did she have to laugh about? She had just been in a serious plane crash,the tvvo passengers she'd rescued vvere perhaps even novv dying. Surely there was nothing in that to laugh about. Then she knew-oh, her heart knew too as it beat its regular lively way once mcwe. Somehovv,in hehnng those othen she had lostforeverthe terror which had held her for so long. She was a real stewardess now- a person the very mention of whose name brought to mind pictures of un- daunted, shining courage. Eiga THE SENIOR DOME l3age'lO

Page 16 text:

CLYVLLCLEDS ln fl Year' l--By FLORENCE CRABB -i- ID you ever truly hear a season, feel it, or even actually observe ltr? Everything has some beauty in it, but nature always has an overabundance of this essential, which seems to be painted in four primary colors, shading and melting one into another as imperceptibly as the hare-bell blue of coming night slips into the rosy amber hues of I hl Id early twilight-one season fading ghost-lilce as another steat iy gi es in. Eaintly through the dead stillness of the torpid world is heard, spiritual- ly, the subtle awalcening of the dormant trees and lifeless bushes. Delicately the tiny buds unfurl their tender greenness, lending a touch of animation and vitality to the atmosphere. Life has been born again. The swish of a jumping rope on the still cold pavement, the craclc of a baseball bat as the boys begin training, the cliclc of marbles as they come out of their long hibernation-all unfailing signs that spring--the imperishable resurrection, has come once more to arouse the lethargic world from its stupor. Gradually the exquisite green turns to a shadowy, deeper emerald, more cogiously Envelgpilng the slim, graceful silhouettes of the scantily-clad trees an crouc ing us es. lmperceptibly the grass has become more verdant, the air more balmy, the roaring swollen streams less turbulent-everything is softer, more tran- quil. lt is summer! The thump of the diving board and the echoing splash of the diver, the twang of the tennis strings and the gentle lapping of the gliding canoe have replaced the sounds of rope, bat, and marbles. But in the crowded, tumultuous cities, heat-crazed, nerve-wraclced workers try to Iescapj front their never-finished taslcs to snatch a fragment of quiet, peace, ca m an coo ness. By a gay, dashing mountain stream, a solitary man fishes contentedly, for- getting the din and raucous clamor of the now distant city. ln the tiny baclc- yard of her small home, a woman lies gazing through the trembling foliage of one young tree and imagining herself in the heart of the forest. A sway- ing line of riders go cantering through cool, pine-scented woods, oblivious to or igirliorant of thegl unpalrolled fellow-humans, some of whom are sweat- ing att eir inescapa e tas s. Gradually the trees became more somber-or more gorgeously color- ful-deep purple reds, flaming scarlets, darlc cerises, vivid oranges, and brilliant yellows contrast sharply with the angular silhouetted greens of great firs and pines. Now the thump of hoofs rings out from the frozen ground, and the uproar of the grandstand drowns out first the soft thud of the lcicl4ed football, then the drumming of feet as the panting, straining husldes dash madly down the field after it. The slcy is a more arresting blue, brighter Tl-IE SENIOR DOME l3age'lQ