Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

Page 12 text:

THE AW AKENING He was asleep. It was no ordinary sleep, relieving, relaxed, induced by instinct, but rather like a repose of death. Sleep passes through stages of depth until upon reaching the final black abyss it remains undisturbed and unpenctrated by visions and dreams. A regenerating, inactive state, yet his had passed from inactivity to oblivion and because he was my son, my heart was troubled, my mind worried. This suspension of m-ind was unnatural for one usually so active, so alert. Even in sleep he usually thrashed about, disarranging his covers as well as his body so that his arms became wrapped around his head and his feet placed in the most awkward positions. Now as I looked down upon his little bed, I scrutinized the occupant, taking in the blackness of his hair against the white pillow, the relaxed contours of his mouth and the little white hands folded one over the other on the blanket. How like his father. God had given me the exact replica of my love to salve my soul and fill my heart when he took my life's breath away so cruelly. As I now surveyed my son I was frightened, for his sleep was one of complete unconciousness, dormant, quiescent. For hours I sat beside him watching every breath until at the dawn his hands moved, his lids slid open and brown eyes stared at me at first unrec- ognizing but then lighting with love, for here was his security. My son had returned from that frightening stupor of unconscious sleep and my soul was quieted. ' DIANE ROWELL, '60 CONTRASTS Before me stood a castle A towering Fabric Of Stone. Gigantic Solid. I W A masterpiece of beauty In Its Day. But now Cold Ever so Cold. A mark of the past Signifying nothing To Our y Generation. NANCY NEVIUS, '61

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TIME PASSES Climbing up a scenic mountain, Listening to the sounds of God, Looking as the leaves float by, I feel so free - climbing . . . listening . . . looking . . . Gliding down a snowy trail, Feeling the wi11d against my face, Knowing that l'm not alone, I am so happy - gliding . . . feeling . . . knowing . . . XValking along a blooming lane, Seeing the buds appear once more, Hearing the songs of the first few I am so lucky - walking . . . seeing . . . hearing . . . Swimming gracefully through the Enjoying the freshness of the air, birds. ripples, Hoping the day would last forever, I am so content - swimming . . . enjoying . . . hoping. Knowing this is God's own world, Believing there is none so great, Loving life the way I do, I am thankful - knowing . . . believing . . loving. PAMELA MURRAY, '60 PEACE A thousand nights A hundred fleeting dreams A vision met and rarely seen. HAL MAGUIRE, '61

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THE BLACK IMAGE Smoke from the chimney swirls In dark, black, ominous clouds, Silhouetting on the sky a reminder That man's toil has been repaid. To the executive: These swirls of smoke, Symbolizing material things, - Clothes, furniture, automobiles, - Have only tangible significance. To the housewife: These black clouds, Recalling to mind the sorrow That makes her life uncertain, Are omens of evil in the world. To the youngster: These puffs of smoke, Signifying that an immense factory Is filled with workers and produce, Mean that great work is in operation. To the factory-worker: These clouds of smoke, Signifying the sweat and toil Necessary for making the produce, Are his life and his all. LINDA WOLF. '61 gw