Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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s EMALYN COLLINS, ' 22. OME write poems for recreation Some write them as their vocation. There are others who write by inspiration When filled with hate or perhaps adoration. There have been poets who sang for fashion, Who have had a song for every occasion ; But when we were required to write an oration That was to be in verse and without limitation. You certainly could have heard the palpitation Of my heart — without exaggeration! She said, ' ' There must be no imitation, There ought not be any repetition; You may write about any law or nation, But it must express some high elation ! ' ' And so, if this poem causes any sensation And there should be heard such cries as Cessation ' And you feel you are very near suffocation But still would desire some illumination, As to why I ' ve attempted such an oration Just know it ' s because of an adjuration And the wish to escape that flagellation.

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eye. He went over to examine them and recognized them as chrysanthemums, as beautiful as those that he and Vallalila had found so many years ago. Memo- ries of his little sister and of the beautiful valley flooded his mind and he was very sad. ' ' Oh, Vallalila, ' ' he cried. ' ' How could I have ever forgotten you so long ? Will you forgive me? I need you so — oh — so much! He broke the flower from its stem and much to his dismay he saw it wither and fade in his hand. He realized the significance of the act at once and when he remembered the little girl in the valley and his neglect and disregard of her, he was overcome with sorrow. Granmer ' s grief was so deep that he sent messengers to all parts of the kingdom to hunt for his sister but they could not find her. When all of the messengers returned and reported their failure, Granmer decided to set out himself in search of Vallalila. He searched for many many days and finally, weary and footsore, he reached his native home. He hardly recognized it. The place where every- thing once had been so happy and peaceful now was gloomy and dreary. He was so sad and weary that he sank down on a nearby log and wept. He had found the cottage, old and desolate, but he could not find his sister. He looked again at the scene before him and he saw this time growing beside the cottage door, a single chrysanthemum on a tall slender stem, graced with beautiful leaves. He went to it and when he touched it he saw the beautiful flower change its form and take on the appearance of his much sought sister, Vallalila. Oh, Granmer, Im so glad you ' ve come back to me, she cried, You don ' t know how sad I have been. I couldn ' t stand it any longer so the ' ' Fairy of Fate changed me into my white chrysanthemum. I ' ve waited so long and I thought you never would come back. Granmer felt very sad when he thought of the suffering and sorrow he had cuased her but now that he had her back, he was happy. They returned to Granmer ' s home and lived happily ever after, never forgetting the white and golden chrysanthemums. ' ' When Beatrice finished her story, Richard rose from his chair and joined the two before the fire. Beatrice, he said, The time has come when I am to choose between the white and golden chrysanthemums. I almost chose the golden, but due to your beautiful little story, my honor is saved and tomorrow — I will refuse the golden and — accept the white chrysanthemum.

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GW -POR RAYMOND FEASTER, ' 24. llT up, thar!, John Evans Lee! shouted the buxom old negro woman as she dexterously flopped the pancakes she was frying. The covers of the bed on the other side of the room shook slightly. Git out, you all, if you ' se gwine t ' th ' centinnial. A black curly head of hair followed by a shining black face emerged into the beam of sunshine that fell through the open door. Hurry up, now! yo ' breakfus ' am jes ' about ready, she continued, still busy flopping the pancakes. Cain ' t ah try to ride that goat jes ' once? eagerly came from John Evans Lee. Ain ' t ah done said no? emphatically. Why for? I can ' t have no broke bones fer t ' fool with roun ' this jint, she answered firmly, with a flourish of her broad right hand that boded much ill if he should dare disobey. This was the day that the little town of Denleyville down in Tennessee was going to celebrate it ' s hundredth birthday with a great ceremony. Among other features of the occasion was to be one that had attracted wide-spread interest among the younger members of the village. An enterprising merchant of the town was offering a ten dollar bill to the youth who could ride Widow Johnson ' s goat, whose services had been offered with the remark, ' ' Maybe that ' 11 take him down a notch ! ' ' And here let it be said that certain people (who had been so conceited as to think they could make up with him) had found that he had great hitting strength and a quick and furious temper. The Widow herself had had an encounter with him, to her own discomfort. One morning as she was taking some corn through his lot to her chickens, the goat, who was accustomed to receiving a share, became angry when his mistress refused to give him a portion and promptly turned into a battering ram. The result was that he got all the corn and the Widow spent the next four days in bed with fresh applications of hot cloths applied every five minutes and a strong denunciation of the goat pronounced between each groan. Goaded on by the thought of winning the ten dollar bill and the popularity it would bring with it, John Evans had built many air castles that came