Seven Hills High School - Yearbook (Cincinnati, OH)

Page 66 text:

IMI I IL I? fi 1' C7 PY 15 SECOND PRIZE MISS BOBBYSOCKS We knock and criticise her, We scold, antagonize her, We wish that she were wiser, More capable and kind. Her path we're always stalking To criticise her talking, Her clothes, her way of walking, Her manners and her mind. We say, L'0h, hightyftighty! She's frivolous and flighty, And all her ways are mighty Undignihed to see, She dances and she chatters, Qur Golden Rule she shatters And laughs at serious matters With unabated gleefl We chide and we correct her, We shadow and detect her, We study and dissect her With all her smiles and tears. And End, on looking o'er her, CAnd learning to adore herj She's just like girls before her For twentyfthousand years! Mary Biddle 1Oth Grade HGNQRABLE MENTION HURRICANE Loud blew the wind, Lamenting, moaning. The pines twisted about In agony, groaning, While the sea, Lashed into wild fury, Beat upon the boardfwalk And gradually bore it away. page 62

Page 65 text:

III' I ll li 55 1' CJ IV 1? about the dance that evening and if he had enjoyed it. Finally, however, he regained his speech just long enough to burst out with Gosh Mom, do you know Ruthie Csighj? Well, I asked her to marry me and, and she accepted In If After he had left the room, his mother turned to her husband and smiled rather wistfully. Cf Well, I guess our little boy is really growing up, Tom. Only twelve and he's fallen in love. Lila Gantt 12th Grade HIGH SCHOOL POETRY CREDIT TO PARADISE The golden blood of the sun Floods down in splendid abandong And what is full of dread Dreams within the heart-for look, We expect most from what we fear. Even this sun, which spreads its glorious Image on our lives, is only caught Again by the great frozen hand Which tossed it forth. For think, Wouldn't it be more a sun If just once it could elude Him? If just once It missed the relentless Hngers? The great can be little. The fun of being God would be In being nothingg To really live, we should be dead too. Isn't all our dread a dread of being just here? Of being only this? Of having no other thing to become? Of having nowhere to go really But where we are? What power has the sun If it must remain the sun? We are afraid that one day the hand Will not catch us when we comeg That the remorseless fingers will not close over us. And I think that is our strongest will- The reason all our dreams of paradise Are dreams of an unlimited disorder In a lawless anonymity. Q37 U Virginia Otterbein xc I. ,.--figk,-fit. 10th Grade xg A' N, , R Ng' X S' page 61

Page 67 text:

IMI I L, li fi 1' CD IV I? Homes disappeared. The wind, shrieking, Tore down the tortured pines, And, havoc wreaking, Spread destruction, Sang his savage song of death, Accompanied by the sobbing rain, By the beautiful, cruel lightning. Up rose the sea, Leaping, bounding, Churning the sandy beaches, Destroying, pounding At the very doors of oncefneat summer cottages, Grinding up ships, And spitting them out as wreckage. Nancy Fosliay 9th Grade POME In spite of my humble vocation Erata has vouchsafed no inspiration Of rapturous, glorious, ecstatic elation For a lovely, romantic, poetic creation To exhibit with pride at the end of vacation. Having passed afternoons in deep contemplation Of Roget and Webster and Accentuation, I now have decided that no meditation Will banish this feeling of sad perturbation, And so I'm emmitting a mad ululation. My formerly trusty imagination Having made its departure without hesitation, I find myself blessed with no pleasant sensation Of visual, corporal materialization, And the worst of it is I have no explanation. I can suffer no longer this humiliation, And so I am writing this sad lucubration, For I have resolved after deep rumination To spare my few readers more harsh castigation: I'll stop writing poetry for the duration! Cameron Dill llth Grade page 63