Sacred Heart College - Gradatim Yearbook (Belmont, NC)

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c:()c ©raDatim GLASS POEM The gallant ship prepares to sail for far off seas; AH spread her sails to catch the gentle breeze. Anchors a-weigh — rhe chantey loud doth ring, And soon the clanking anchor chain comes rattling in. She moves ! A thing of beauty — As all young life. On shore, they stand Admiring. Scan With eager eyes, And speculate The venture ' s enterprise. Now tiny waves break gainst her bow their crest — Each heart breathes forth a hope for all that ' s best — As proud — away she sails — into the golden West. We too, dear ones, full soon take ship — This sheltered port we leave with sunset breeze: Our present moorings soon we ' ll gently slip — Commit our bark unto the mercy of the seas. Behind, we ' ll leave with fears and tears and sighs — Though all dissembled by your smiling eyes — Ye, who have our craft well steered of late; Ye, who ever hence, shall watch our fate; Ye, who. come joy to us, shall with us true be glad: Ye, who. come ugly storms — for us be sad. Ah ' well ye know Life ' s angry waves- — Its undertow- — - Its cruel storms that blow! And so we thus commit us to your earnest care — Follow us please, with humble fervent prayer. And this we plead, Whether neath soft sunny Southern sky. Or storm-tossed by the angry boist ' rous sea. Where ' er our port may lie. Oh let your orisons gently sigh To Heaven in our need. And Oh my Classmates, what shall I— can I say — Unto thy kindred hearts all firmly knit with love — With silken strands of young love gay — Reminding one of Heaven above? Deep calls to deep — Heart unto heart. Sweet secrets keep. Ne ' er ne ' er impart Save to their kin. And that ' s no sin. For. true the Poet sings and well. Roses, my dear, they NEVER tell. So we, who ' ve as a unit, toiled and moiled Together scolded— fussed — studied — played and prayed — Prinked — pranked — were caught — and mayhap. flayed — Who ' ve lost or won in many a game. Yet, winners — losers — smile the same — We ' d never DARE express in rhyme Class secrets dear — of mine and thine. But this we know: Where ' er we go — So long as our dear ROSES blow. We ' ll ne ' er forget these sweet sweet years — Gladdened with Joy — And a dash of tears. No matter where our ships may sail, To what far port or foreign dime; Memory, we know, will never fail Remind us of our school-day time. I ' ll think of you dear Classmates all! Do think of me. whatc ' er befall. When trouble comes (and things u. ' ill mix) Just grin! Remember— you ' re ' 36. Though rough the going harsh the climate. PICK your PEAK, my dear — and CLIMB IT!!! True to our ideals, though lofty as the spars Of our good ship. Clear, clean, pure as stars: With naught of craven-naught of idle brag: With busy hands and minds: with hearts that never flag. For thus, and only thus, may each Classmate hope to be Loyal to Alma Mater ' True child of S. H. C, Stout are the anchor, hawsers, holding safe the ship Which heaves and strains upon the swelling tide; And stout the lofty sails outspread — o ' er head — To catch the frcshning breeze from far and wide. So too, we have our anchor — hawsers — sails and chart. To guide us o ' er Life ' s trackless wave: To point the course unto our destined mart: From utter shipwreck, lives to save. Our sails? Our lofty thoughts — pure — silken — Which waft us on to fields elysian. Our anchor stout? True Faith — impiety doth mock. Holds us in storm and stress, and keeps us from the rock. Our hawsers? Naught but earnest, constant prayer Tying us safe to God — compelling His Paternal care. Here. O Classmates, Here. At Alma Mater, dear We ' ve sought to learn the art Which She would fain impart: The art of steering course by one safe Chart ! The Chart of Him Who quells the angry sea— The Chart — and Heart — Of Him Who makes this plea — To me — to thee — Child ' Follow ME ' Page Ten

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be (SraDatim CLASS HISTORY It was one of those rare days in June, when Mother Nature is at the height of her beauty, when the summer breeze is saturated with the fragrance of the dehcate flowers that nod to one another as they sway to and fro. I was seated on the terrace enjoying Hfc as contentedly as a grandmother is capable of. when she has been looking back into her school days and realizes that they are gone forever. My thoughts were interrupted by the patter of tiny feet and the sound of a tiny voice calling. Granny. she began, her chubby face wreathed in smiles, her eyes entreating, please tell me a story, I could not refuse. I agreed to tell her about my school days. She settled herself on a footstool close to my chair and patiently waited for me to begin. I hesitated for a moment and felt the nudge of a little hand and heard, Go on. Granny. Without further ado I began: When our class left port ' Grammar School ' to cross the sea of ' Academic Courses ' there were only two members aboard the good ship ' Study. ' Each year we increased until when we sighted our destiny, the lovely island called ' Graduation ' wc had reached the tradi- tional number — ten. As Freshman, our class was the current joke — the largest class in the school. We were teased from September to June, but this did not daunt our courage, we merely resolved to to Show ' em, eh Granny. cried Jacqueline enthusiastically. Yes, Jackie, that is it exactly. Our ship continued and wc soon found ourselves in the midst of the strait called ' Sophomore Year. ' Wc were thrilled to think that, though we were called ' foolishly wise ' we were the sister class of the seniors. During our Junior year one thought alone remained constantly before us — next year we would be Seniors. Impatiently we waited, while time seemed to deliberately slip by lazily and nonchalantly. Then the big day came, the first day of our Senior year. Everyone of us felt a tremor of a thrill surge through us as wc realized that at last our dreams had come true. After a year crowded with pleasures and activities, we came to the parting of ways. Although we had longed for our cap and gown, it was not without a feeling of sorrow that wc donned them and marched for the last time down the aisle for our diplomas. Oh, Granny, said Jackie thoughtfully, Do you suppose I will have as good a time when I go there? I am sure of it, dearie, for SACRED HEART will never change. — Margaret MiDDLETON. Class Historian. Page Tu. ' elve