Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

Page 13 text:

The Daisy In all its purity in all its simplicity symbolizes love. Why must it be so strange to me that the petals always fall? Wait they say and do be gay, for love will come, you'll see. Yet the petals still fall, some forced by squalls, and wither on the ground. I must be content, not callow, to see them lie under the willow. Yet l love the daisy in all its purity in all its simplicity with only a little yellow. B-ETTY HALL

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A Funny Story It all started when Nick wouldn't eat his breakfast because he didn't like what his mother had served. His mother hadn't slept Well the night before and she, thoroughly disgusted with him, ordered him to go to his room until she called him. Watching the men round up the horses from his bedroom Window, Nick grew more and more depressed. This vvasn't the first time she had yelled at him. She hates me and yells at me whenever she gets the chance, he thought. Maybe life would be easier for them if I vvasn't around. At the peak of his feeling of rejection, Nick decided he would l-eave home for a while, maybe forever. He stuffed in a small bag all the odds and ends he thought he would need. Lowering himself from his window, he almost turned back, but then went over in his mind this morning's incident at breakfast and firmly decided he would leave. He saddled his horse, constantly watching for someone who might walk in and bog him down with endless questions. When he was out of sight of the main cabin, the thought struck him that he was free. He could go aynvvhere and do anything. He felt like Huck Finn only in a different locale. Dismounting, he rested a while on a hillside. Watching his horse graze, he had another thought. VVhat was there to do? There was really nothing he could do except ride his horse with no place to go and eat the small amount of food he had brought with him. Nick started laughing. He thought what he had just done was ridiculously funny. He got up from the small nest he had made himself, mounted his horse and started home, still laughing. SUSAN BROWN '69 The Trouble With Pronouns Lord, do I love he, But his love for me I can not see, For he loves she And she loves he, That's why he and me can never be we. LEE MCKALLAGAT '68 10

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The Fugitive The sweet delicate fragrance of ginger filled the moist, thick air. The trees and flowers scattered about remained colorless shadows in the darkness of night and all was silent. A small man huddled shivering in a crevice covered by immense green ferns. His heart pounded rapidly and his whole body seemed to pulsate rhythmically. The black nothingness of space swirled about him and every shadow was his enemy. He began to torture himself with thoughts of being pursued by madmen or wild beasts which existed merely in his mind. They are coming! I can hear them!! he thought to himself as he retreated farther into the crevice. Alas, he was alone and helpless. Stars pierced the velvet sky like sewn diamonds, and the moonlight filtered through the trees forming patterns of darkness on the ground. Nothing lurked among the shadows, all was still. All but a singular fugitive rested in this night. DONNA BRION '68 Political Comment The Viet vet returns unrewarded While more youths are herded up and hauled off to slaughter. The black mass rebels on a tide - of constant unrest. A country splits And johnson sits. jour LANDWEHR '68 12