Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

Page 30 text:

T DORISE NORBECK, ' 20 HE SUPPER is over, the hearth is swept, And in the wood fire ' s glow. The children cluster to hear a tale Of that time so long ago, When grandmother ' s hair was golden brown. And the warm blood came and went O ' er the fac e that was scarcely sweeter then Than now, in its rich content. The face is wrinkled and careworn now And the golden hair is gray. But the light that shone in the young girl ' s eye Has never gone away. And her needles catch the fire ' s bright g ' leam, As in and out they go. With the clicking music that grandma loves, As she shapes the stocking toe. And the waiting children love it too, For they know the stocking song Brings many a tale to grandma ' s mind Which they shall hear ere long ; But it brings no tale of olden times To grandma ' s heart tonight, Only a sermon quaint and short. That is sung by needles bright. Life is a stocking, grandma says, And your ' s is just begun, But I am knitting the toe of mine And my work is almost done ; With merry hearts we begin to knit, And the ribbing is almost play. Some are gay colors, and some are white, And some are ashen gray.

Page 29 text:

T fl-LULLUB MYLBEA FINDLEY, ' 19 HE GOLDEN dreamboat ' s ready, With her silken sails all spread; And the breeze is gently blowing To the fairy port of bed; And the fairy captain ' s waiting While the busy sand man flies With the silver dust of slumber Closing every baby ' s eyes. Oh, the night is rich with moonlight, And the sea is calm with peace, And the angels fly to guard you, Their watch shall never cease; And the fairies there await you, They have splendid dreams to spin; You shall hear them gaily singing As the dreamboats draw you in. Like the ripple of the water Does the dreamboat ' s whistle blow, Only baby ears can catch it When it comes the time to go. Only little ones may journey On so wonderful a ship And go drifting off to slumber With no care to mar the trip. Oh, the little eyes are heavy, But the Jittle soul is light ; It shall never know a sorrow Or a terror through the night. And at last when dawn is breaking And the dreamboat ' s trip is o ' er. You shall wake to find your mother Smiling over you once more.

Page 31 text:

But some there are of many a hue, With many a stitch set wrong, And many a row to be sadly ripped Ere the whole is fair and strong. There are long plain spaces without a break, That in youth are hard to bear ; And many a weary tear is dropped. As we fashion the heel with care. But the happiest, saddest time is that Which we court, and yet would shun. When our Heavenly Father breaks the thread And says our work is done. The children come to say good-night With tears in their bright blue eyes. While in grandma ' s lap, with a broken thread. The finished stocking lies. fl-njoice. O RUTH L. MILLER, ' 19 NLY A flower in the deep, dark woods. Half hidden by last year ' s leaves, A bit of freshness and beauty divine, A breath of fragrance among the trees. Dear litle flower with a heart so pure, Beautiful emblem of love ! Tell me the secret God gave you to know, Did you fall from heaven above? How many hearts have you cheered and made glad? How many souls have you healed? Seems to me you ' ve a mission to fill, In your God-given beauty revealed.