Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

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RN0QI0qi5 ffii33aOD%£:m QI0QI To You Ruth Blumer, ' 25. w HEN you are gone The days are like a flower, That having yielded up its store of honey Must droop its head In lonliness and sorrow. For bees will come no more. Spring Comes Back Again A Irene Clifton, ' 25. PATH of golden stars across the grass; The song of a bird, and the droning of bees; A rainbow tangled in budding trees. And here is April smiling through tears, Come back to us again. o a; $ ! $ « • !« $ ♦ 1$

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nose. It spilled down the front of her dress and fell on me, quite spoiling my appearance. I was so angry that I pinched Aimee ' s feet all evening. Do you blame me? At nine o ' clock we went home. I sat in a dark clothespress all night and rested. Thus ended my first day. April 20, 1925. 1 have not been writing regularly at all. I quite forgot my diary. I am not as pretty as I used to be. Oh, well, one must get old, I guess. School is the same every day and I get tired of it. I go up stairs and downstairs all day long. Today the ' ' gee ' ' teacher made Aimee go to the office because she was eating candy. I didn ' t take her very fast. I just dragged aci oss the floor and the teacher yelled. Make it snappy! May 29, 1925. Really. 1 ' m back so much in my accounts that 1 ' m ashamed. Today I come to say farewell, and tell you a very sad story. I am now five months old and a tiny hole is appearing in my toe. No wonder, though, because Aimee slides down the narrow margin at the sides of the steps when the teachers aren ' t looking. I have been polished so much that I don ' t shine any more. I heard Aimee ' s mother tell her to go to the shoe store this evening and get some new slippers, so I guess I ' m done for. My life has been short and sweet. Farwell, cruel world ! Yours truly, The Remains of a Pair of Slippers. « ; ♦ ; $

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:sa c :o iwiMi«»! Morning Elizabeth Feasteb. ' 26 T HE dawn came stealing over the hills On the heels of the fleeing night; Rousing the sleeping world to life With her painted fingers of light. She stopped at the crowded, dirty city, It awakened from sleep with a start; The hurry and flurry of the day Began in its throbbing heart. In the cool, green country the breezes stirred, The song-birds trilled their best; The farmer set out to his daily task. Refreshed b} r his night of rest. The merry sun slid up in the sky, And blinked in his jolly way; Smiling on city and country alike, As they greeted another new day. »• $ ; $ : ♦