Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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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

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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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Just Like a Gypsy William Miller, ' 25. ' 1Y TOM, I want to go to the park this afternoon and play, may I go? asked 1 little Donald Perrin, the four-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Howard Pei-rin, who had lived in this country only ten months and whose financial circumstances were rather low. Yes, you may go if you will come back at five o ' clock sharp, for I shall worry about you if you are not back at that time, ' ' said his kind mother. ' All right, I ' ll be back at half-past, answered Don in a joyful tone. As Mrs. Perrin stood in the door watching him trip merrily out of her sight, little did she think that it was the last time she would ever see him running to the play ground, barefooted and so free from care. As soon as he had turned the corner she went back into her kitchen, humming a tune, and began sewing his little blouse. The time flew so fast, that before she knew it, it was twenty-five minutes after four. Immediately she put aside her sewing and started to prepai-e supper as Mr. Perrin was expected home before five o ' clock. Where ' s Don? exclaimed Mr. Perrin, as he entered the kitchen door. ' ' Oh, he went to the park to play, but he will be back in just a few minutes. Why? said Mrs. Perrin. Well, said Mr. Perrin, ' he has asked me many times if he might have a ball and glove like the other boys, but I never have had the money to buy them. I had been saving fifty cents a week until I had enough, and this evenin g 1 stopped at Smith ' s Hardware Store and bought them. I am anxious to see his big blue eyes grow larger when he sees them. It was half-past five and supper was over, but Donald had not yet come home. His father and mother thought he was enjoying himself so much that he had forgotten that it was late. The sun had begun to sink in the west and both Mr. and Mrs. Perrin were terribly worried as Donald had never before stayed out that late, so they at once set out to find him. They went to the play ground, but all the children had gone. They inquired at every place where they thought he might be, but no one knew anything about him. The police were notified and all the community hunted for the lost boy. A week passed by and Mr. and Mrs. Perrin were frantic with fear and grief.