Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

Page 21 text:

' ' Oh, lucky mortal, who shall know The Future at your will ; Those fifty years wait in a row To speak or to be still. From twenty-five to seventy-five, They wait your beck and call; For then you may not be alive, To see e ' en one and all. From those years you may pick a day, And an object you may see In any month from June to May. And true to life ' twill be. So think right well and choose it well, The thing you would behold ; Though it be building, mount or dell. Make haste, for Time is Gold. Impatiently he looked at me; My brain worked quick and fast. Of future days what should I see? An idea came at last. In seventy-five, I wish to see, On the last day of the year, The Shields High School as it will be, And how it shall appear. Out of the mists before me grew The form I knew so well ; The grass seemed wet with morning dew, I heard the ringing bell. I climbed again the olden steps, They seemed almost worn through; Minerva, still, though sung, unwept, With spear and staff, stood true. The office door was crowded, too, With tardy girls and boys ; But I saw no one whom I knew To share my ancient joys.

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WA KREOillSRiB yvi Shields High School 1975 Mildred Peacock, ' 26. M PRELUDE AN may cut the forest down, And man may kill the birds ; And from the forest build a town, Stir nature with his words. Man may scatter helpless blood Across the earth, with tears ; Yea, man may dam the river ' s flood, But ne ' er the flood of years. I dreamed a wondrous dream last night. So strange, unique, yet clear, It burns yet in my inward sight ; Listen and you shall hear. 1 dreamed I stood beside a road, Its name, I heard, was Time ; There marched along, each with his Fifty old men in a line. load, All were hoary and white with age, And a sharp scythe each bore; They much resemble the great Death Sage, Who waits without the door. When passed the last of the hoary band. Old Father Time stood there With the hour glass in his strong right hand. While the wind played through his hair. His eyes were bright as bright could be; He raised his haughty head; 11 is lips moved, and he spoke to me; And this is what he said:

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SESSCfetofl And oh. how quickly passed the hours, The rooms had seen no change, The self-same vases held the flowers; But the teachers were all strange. The scholars seemed as happy, then, As the boys and girls, today; They talked of games to lose and win, In the self-same youthful way. They talked of Math and Botany, They laughed at foolish pranks; They stumbled through Geometry To find the depth of tanks. And all too soon I saw them go Out through the dear old door; As some will leave that I now know, And leave, to come no more. And all alone I wandered through The corridors and halls; A thousand mem ' ries came anew, And I stared at the walls. Soon to the study room I came, I found it full of ghosts; And I heard through the silence ' s reign The noise of the Dead Hosts. And through the quietude, so mild, The voice of Shields High spoke: ' 0, welcome home, my wand ' ring child, Your step my echoes woke. many have come through my door For a blessing and caress; 1 loved some less, I loved some more, But yours I loved the best. So many of you trod my halls, So few are now alive; I loved you better than my walls, My Class of Twenty-five. $ r Ai$-AiQ