Schuylerville Central School - Schuyler Yearbook (Schuylerville, NY)

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 nrtrg BLOSSOMS ODE ON DELIGHT Do you like to watch the blossoms. As they grow each passing day; As they grow from stems to flowers. Each in its own way ? Mow the tender steins come peeping. Through the moist and tender earth. How the green buds start to gather, Then to grow for all they're worth. Soon the buds grow pink and fuzzy. As if to show they have sonic life; ’Till a rain just bursts them open. And they turn to snowy white. For a time they blossom gaily; Then they start to lose their charm. Their petals drop off sadly. But they do not come to harm. Take a life now, and compare it To a flowrct, fair and pure, And you’ll notice as you do it How similar all things arc. First come infant days a-peeping. Somehow, we know not from where; This to childhood changes swiftly. Rosy buds without a care. Then they burst, and on the morrow They have turned to blossoms fair. Some are weak, while some are hardy; Some arc fairest blossoms rare. These may bloom for days or ages. As their special case may be; ’Till they slowly, surely wither, Then as slowly, pass away. Grace Russell LIFE DOES THIS People thought her beautiful before; Now, a greater, richer, finer beauty Is graven on that lovely face. Suffering, that great artist Has drawn it there. Pain, dull, dreary pain. Has traced patience there. The beautiful trusting soul Looks calmly from The blue eyes. She has left her youth behind her; Now, she travels on life’s road As only a lovely woman can go With an eternal trust in God; A love for all things; A belief that is expressed In all she does, In all she is. Ruth Esmond It's the greatest delight in the world To watch the dawn like a banner unfurled; To wade waist deep in babbling brooks; To read fairy tales in quiet little nooks; To wander alone down a moonlit lane; To seek and to find; to lose and regain. Day, with its thousand eyes at noon Cannot sec the delights of the moon; Dawn or books, in quiet little nooks; Insistent noises made by the brooks; Soft, silent shadows of tremendous trees; Bright, graceful greenness of new budded leaves. Lovers parting in lanes obscure; Closely locked in arms secure; Love’s happiness or parting’s sweet sorrow; The joys and the pleasures, awaiting tomorrow; Delights and darings of each treasured kiss; The heaven on earth in moments like this. Misunderstood and awfully abused. Delight is a word often misused, Bessie Booth TIME Oh, time, thou fleetest on wings of wind. Thou pauseth not but callcth ever, “Come hither. Come hither.” If I could but forget thee. And live my life without thee, I wonder, would God be nearer me? Ruth Esmond THE DOGSLED Mush on, brave dogs of the northland, Through the blizzard that hides the way; With never a look behind you; Or a thought of the frozen trail. Mush on, far into the northland. Where the nights are dark and cold; Where the blizzard rages in fury. And the cry of the wolf is heard. Mush on, through the country of snow and ice, Wlhere the trapper staggers And fights for his life; And the Caribou hungrily roam. Mush on, and on, and on, With never a thought of turning. Until the destined goal is reached And the task is well accomplished. Frank Focerite Seventeen

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A tribute to the Class of ’33 I think I am safe in saying that the class of '33 has had far more numerous and serious obstacles to contend with than it has ever been the misfortune of any previous class in the history of our school to encounter. There is no evil, however, from which some good does not result. The spirit in which the class met and overcame the tremendous obstacles fate has hurled in their path tended to bring out the fine characteristics, the loyalty, courage, and school spirit with which most boys and girls of this class arc imbued. The class of ’33 helped the class of ’32 to complete their plans for the Washington trip. Then came the news that, due to the depression, the class of ’33 would not be able to make the customary trip. The fondest dream of every boy and girl as soon as they become freshmen is the trip to Washington which they will take when they become seniors. The boys and girls of the class of ’33, being no different from any others, cherished the same dream. 1 hey accordingly set to work and laboured through the years in order to attain this goal. Consequently, when at the eleventh hour they were obliged to re- linquish their fondest dream and their “Castles in the Air” came tumbling down, the class was sadly disappointed. They lost none of their school spirit, however, nor the spirit of loyalty and cooperation, so characteristic of them. They threw their energies whole-heartedly into the task of aiding their “little brothers and sis- ters”, namely “the class of ’34”, to pave their way for the eventful and pleasureable trip of which fate had deprived them. Then there were difficulties with the year book. It looked for a while as if the class of ’33 was, after four years of continuous labor for class and for school, to pass out of the History of S. H. S. with their achievements and sacrifices un- recorded. Nor would there be anything to remind them, in years to come, of the classmates with whom they had labored side by side for four long years, and with whom they had shared their disappointments and successes. But again, with char- acteristic loyalty and enthusiasm, “the class” rallied to the support of the “Year Book” and their final efforts were crowned with success. I am sure that when we say “Fare-well” to our high school career and set forth on the stormy seas of life, where the roads part, often never to meet again, the year book will be a pleasant reminder of the “good ole school-days” and of the beautiful friendships and acquaintances that grew out of four years of associations and co- operation with such fine classmates; and we shall feel then, more than we do now, that our labors have not been in vain. Joseph Szekei.y Sixteen

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'(Eljc tssay Contest Kate Bromley and Jean Newton bent over a history book lying on the table. “Jean, are you going to enter the essay contest?” “Yes, I think I shall. With our essay work in English, it ought to be a cinch for us. Let’s see, was the Dingley Tariff low ? Are you going to enter, Kate?” “Um-hm, I guess so. Oh, tariffs don’t interest me,” Kate answered impatiently. Each year the Barkerville D. A. R. sponsored an essay contest with a prize of twenty-five dollars. It sounded easy enough to Jean. She’d get her outline made and send it to Liz who was in College. She’d write it for her as Liz was good that way and could write better than Jean. But when she told her plan to her mother, Mrs. Newton said that Jean must write her own essay. Jean half-heartedly composed her notes and told Kate, next morning of the broken plan. But Kate was ecstatic. “Why, Jean,” she purred, “this is splendid. There’s no need for the rest of us to compete.” But this implied compliment did not cheer Jean. She abandoned her notes and when she again worked on them, she saw that Kate was working on some notes exactly like hers. Jean was hurt. She hardly spoke to Kate after that and burned her notes. Oh, Mother,” she sobbed, “how could Kate do it? She’s got everything and 1 need that money. When the winner was to he announced in assembly, Jean was trembling as she walked into the auditorium beside Kate. “Darling,” Kate was purring, “You’re going to get the surprise of your life.” But Jean didn’t answer. She couldn’t rejoice over Kate’s victory when it should have been hers. Mr. Davis rose and began a lengthy explanation of the contest; it’s purpose and benefits. “Oh. why can’t he say Kate Bromley won the prize and get it over?” thought Jean. Then she heard, “1 am happy to present the twenty-five dollars in gold to Jean Newton. Will Miss Newton please come forward ?” Kate pressed Jean’s hand, “Go ahead, dearie,” she whispered. Rising, Jean spoke calmly, But, Mr. Davis, there must be a mistake. I didn’t enter an essay.” But Kate rose beside her pal and explained to the entire school that she wrote Jean’s essay for her, knowing that Jean would not win the prize, regardless of her ideas. As the girls were called to the front and pronounced the joint winners of the contest, a roar of applause greeted them from the audience. Bessie Galusha efforts of Beauty on 1£tfc Many and lasting are the effects of beauty on life. Beauty can be observed in all highway's and by ways of life whether along the smooth and grassy paths or in the stony ways. The poet sees the beauty in the white capped mountains or in the beauti- fully constructed lines of poetry. '1 hey become an inspiration for loftier ideals and fanciful dreamings. I he sculptor sees the beauty in a well carved statue. To him, the museum is a heaven on earth in which he realizes his dreams come true in the statues of former artists. I' rom these, he gathers courage to continue. The painter revels in the beauty of the sunset and is content to spend hours on one sketch only' to have the beautiful scene preserved and interpreted by his own hand. I lie doctor secs the beauty in the bloom of healthy checks and disappearance of physical handicaps which he has had power to remedy. The teacher after patient drilling is thrilled to see advanced improvements in class work. The mother in the home sees the beauty in her children’s faces as they impart a secret or some passing joy' into her sympathetic and loving heart. The love in her eyes is reflected on their faces as they gather about her for their good night kiss. Love is beauty. Beauty cannot be denied love. Give the best which is in you, and the best will come back a thousand fold in the reflection of a beautiful face; not in features, but in grace and poise. D „ ,,, b 1 Bessie Booth, 33