Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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sax xK he said graciously, is a joy forever. ' He has such a pretty way of speaking. Mr. Shakespeare, due to his extreme age, is a bit unbalanced, but this after- noon he was in a brilliant mood and dear, how he talked ! I was afraid he was going to be queer though, because just as soon as he saw me, he cried, Is this a dagger which I see before me? It took quite a while to convince him that I wasn ' t a dagger or even remotely resembled one. Then we heard someone arguing on the porch and I thought it must be Mr. Cromwell ; he is always quarreling with somebody especially that American, Mr. Henry Clay. Oh, they fight like eats and dogs! However, it was only Lord Byron with Mr. Shelley. Come close the door, the wind is cold, ' Twill make me ill, I ' m getting old, shouted Mr. Wordsworth. He delights to speak in ryhme, I suppose to prove he ' s a poet. The Assyrian came down like a wolf in the fold! cried Mr. Byron. Oh, Wild West Wind, put in Mr. Shelley. The Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece, where burning Sappho loved and sung! roared the former. Oh, Byron, said Mr Wordsworth. I ' ve been meaning to remind you. Repeat the principal parts of the verb sing and you ' ll find your grammar ' s all wrong. It ' s not sung, it ' s sang. He leaned back triumphantly. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll, Behold my poet ' s license doubting soul, said Mr. Byron coolly. It ' s forged, I ' ll warrant, exclaimed Mr. Wordsworth. Mr. Byron turned purple and I was frightened nearly to death, but Mr. Shelley separated them and then asked thoughtfully. If winter comes will spring be far behind? That started an argument and while it was going on Mr. Dickens and Mr. Thackeray came and all the rest. Mr. Lowell no sooner came in than he began asking, Oh, what is so rare as a day in June? And Mr. Wordsworth said his heart simply leaped up when he beheld a rainbow in the sky. Then he told about some lovely daffodils he saw once when he was wandering lonely as a cloud. Mr. Shakespeare pointed to my new electric chandelier and said, How far that little candle throws its beams ! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. ' ' That was a joke and everyone laughed. It was all very pleasant. Then Mr. Tennyson said, speaking of nice days the first of May was the maddest, merriest one of all the year. Mr. Longfelow was in a sorrowful mood and said sadly, The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year. It rains, and the wind is never weary. ' ' I looked out and sure enough it was sprinkling so I hurried out to get the refreshments but lo and behold, that naughty Edgar Allen Poe was eating the

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:.dSJ£5j5JIMWS :w The Mad Tea Party Alice Cobb, ' 26. By George Elliott (with profue apologies to G. E.) DEAR! dear, it ' s such a responsibility to be an author. I wouldn ' t mind writing books so much, but my greatest worry is being a member of the Author ' s Society — such a stupid name but we simply couldn ' t agree on anything else. There were ever so many suggestions. Mr. Shakespeare thought the ' ' Romeo Society would be nice, but Mr. Dickens said that was entirely too sentimental and suggested the Copperfield Club. ' ' I couldn ' t bear that and much preferred The Silas Marner Association, but Mr. Longfellow — men are so utterly ridiculous — said it wouldn ' t do at all, and the egotistical creature had the nerve to suggest Mournful Numbers Circle. Mr. Riley had the audacity to say that Raggedy Man Literary Club would be fine. These Americans are simply unspeakable. This led to further discussion, Lord Byron suggesting the Childe Harold or Children Harold which sounded much too juvenile and Mr. Shelley The Sky Larks or Bird Thou Never Wert. However, I nearly forgot. The Society met here this afternoon and I declare I never was so excited since Adam Bede came out. In the first place th time was set for three o ' clock and I had hardly finished lunch when Mr. Tenny- son marched in shouting. Half a League, Half a League. Half a League On- ward. ' ' Why, Mr. Tennyson, I cried, You are early. Madam, he said earnestly, I am the soul of promptness. Then Mr. and Mrs. Browning drove up and I hurried out to greet them. Mrs. Browning is lovely and I like her much better than Jane Austin. Jane won ' t speak to me since I told her Pride and Prejudice was absurd and unbearably stupid. And she ' s so horrid about Mill on the Floss. Mr. Browning immediately began a discussion about the location of Hamlin Town. He is perfectly sure it is in Brunswick but I ' m certain it is somewhere in Australia. Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Shakespeare came next and John Keats a little later. Mr. Wordsworth doesn ' t get along with Johnnie Keats at all and they do have awful arguments. John is merely a boy and I hardly think it ' s fair for Mr. Wordsworth to take advantage of his youth to propound all his simplic- ity nature logic. ' ' He always keeps quiet when Lord Byron is around I notice. I usually take Johnnie out in the kitchen and give him a piece of bread and butter to keep him quiet. He ' s such a precocious child. I had a candy rabbit for him today and he was simply delighted. A thing of beauty, dear lady,

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ice cream just as fast as lie could ! 1 called Mr. William Cullen Bryant and he arrested him right away and said, ' ' So live that when thy summons comes to face the court or something like that. I was simply furious at that Poe boy. He is a nuisance. So we saved the ice cream. There wasn ' t enough to go around but Johnnie Keats didn ' t mind doing without, he had his rabbit, and ice cream isn ' t good for Mr. Shakespeare. Johnnie helped me serve the guests and so did Mr. Dickens. I asked Mr. Milton but he said, They also serve who only stand and wait. T didn ' t see how, but it was just as well for he is always dropping things. Pretty soon Mr. Longfellow looked out and said. The day is done and the darkness, falls from the wings of night. So they all began to look for their wraps. Mr. Shakespeare left saying, Good-night, parting is such sweet sorrow that 1 could say ' good-night ' until tomorrow. After they had gone I counted the silverware. There were only four spoons, a knife, and two forks missing and. needless to say, I considered myself very fortunate indeed. Altogether it is a great strain on one ' s nerves to be an author. (Also with apologies to anyone else who might be offended). The Moon Jeanette Clarke, ' 25. M CON that rises With the setting sun, Moon that appears When the day is done ; Ancient Moon ! That floats on high ; Over the vast And boundless sky ; Thou dost cast thy glance On the earth, at rest, And then, as silently Dost sink in the west. Q. lQi AiQ