Santa Ana High School - Ariel Yearbook (Santa Ana, CA)

Page 13 text:

HISTORY OF '08 A few have stood the test, And of the eighty that began with us, We are not quite forty left. We are the ones who defied the snares Of Ignorance and his bandg . We stormed his forts and prisons dark- Made his allies bite the sandg For we pried with the bar of Latin The slabs laid down by time, And released the voice of Cicero, And saw Cwsar in his primeg We unearthed much ancient knowledge, And unraveled the modern lore, And when there was nothing else to do We have even created more. Now there is only the final rush Until our goal we will gain, From whence spread out the ways of life O'er that high and fertile plaing And when we are roaming far from here, At times our thought 'll return To the heroic acts of the Nineteen-eights, In the four years we strove to learn. As for- the legions who follow us Up the rough slopes to Fame, We will leave our record of thirty-eight, For some other to put to shame. --Louis Robinson L...l -xgf ,..- t f lfrxsf fig? is 'N

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THE ARIEL Then, in the pauses between the attacks Uponqthe enemy's lines, We vanquished the junior's football team And enjoyed many glorious times. During the fights of this first campaign, We were led by a leader so true, That never a day in the field we lost, And we went through the thickest, toog She cautioned of swamps and forests dark, Where our thoughts might bog or stray, And she cheered us on in those fierce attacks, To the enemy's great dismay. She was always with us in pleasure or woe, In her thoughts we had always room, And deep in the heart of every mate U. E. F. will be carved till doom. But her aid was too great, our success too marked For commencing the next campaign, She was sent to command a weak brigade- We had won too much glory and fame. . With a mere figure-head to sign passports We plunged again into strife, Determined to let no illiterate hedge Obstruct our free path in life. The march was often rough and steep, And the enemy pressed us hard, Many a comrade was struck from our ranks, And many were deeply scarred. Bombs of aversion hurled in our midst Maimed some of our men for life, Stabbed with the steel of discontent Some quit the noble strife, And the poisoned arrows of idleness Dispatched by a lurking foe, Struck some of our loitering comrades, i Occasionally laying them low. Despite the foe and the rugged Way,

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WHILE A GREAT CITY SLEEPS A, L HE storm has calmed. A pure, white mantle le vi covers the whole world, and all is still. The fi?-3 night is dark, but the lights, gleaming from the 'Y 'J . . . Q-he Q-gf windows and dusky street lamps, shining on the 2 ' GX snow, give it all an air of unreality. The calm, X' with the mantle of purity and chastity, softens the bitterness of the blizzard before. A young man slowly makes his way from the entrance of a brown stone front and more slowly staggers down the street. In the rays of a :flickering light his face is wan and creased with lines made deepby suffering. He seems dazed, with no idea what to do. He wanders on and on, heeding not his direction. though seemingly led by an invisible hand. The streets grow narrower, the houses dingier, the lights dimmer. He passes them all-on out into the darkness beyond. He stumbles over the tracks of the freight yard, blindly groping his way between the cars. At last he reaches the bridge and the night seems darker. A light snow has begun to fall. As his feet touch the wood, something within him stirs. But even as realization comes to him, an added shadow of bitterness passes over his face and a deep sigh escapes his lips, as though his heart were rent within. He cannot go back. He cannot stand the disgrace. No one trusts him. No one believes in him. He is so weary. But now he can end it all. Why are things as they are? Is there no God in heaven to save the weak? And he had been Weak. He was not guilty. He had been taken advantage of in a moment of weakness. But at last, at last- and almost joyfully he pushes back his damp hair and laughs! He is becoming wild. Is it with madness or with joy? And he rushes to the edge. There he stands poised. His eyes turn toward heaven. He Wavers-a cry break- ing the stillness echoes through his brain. He staggers back and listens. Low Weeping beside him makes him turn, and there,