Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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f 1 , , 4 1 1.7: 'A ??-5 -A' 'f 5 r Y ' Y j ? The Open Sea , VISITED Elysium. fi There were bowers f Bright with honey-scented flowers. , Lilies blooming in full splendor shoneg 'Kr I s iw Loose-petaled roses swayed full-blowng And far away there boomed the sea. The Wind brought faint to me The smell of roaring, booming salty sea. I cannot linger here. The gardens, lovely though they be, Ponds, lily laden, fair to see- Yet so near the open ocean, Heaving, rolling with a steady motion, Calling-I'11 go away, Down to the sea, And sail its salty depths, and spray Will splash my hardened cheek- Cold water, like the First frost of clear And the white-topped, frothing waves will beat And toss about my galleon fleet. November day, Gardens of Elysian clime, Be ye ornate, so sublime, There is beauty, pleasure more Roving on the open shore. Be the sand a floor of shells, Dainty pink, like fairy bells, There is beauty more for me Out upon the open sea. Henry Lowenhaupt, january '29. Mountain Columbine OUNTAIN colurnbine, companion of the everlasting snows, Daring to peep where the westwind keeps His wintry domain, sulphur sun and hail, Shifting clouds over rugged rocks, green icebergs and the ever tugging galeg Numb springs seep: the pale noon silence shattered by a marmot's call. f Betty Lowenhaupt, January'29. 109

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E,,.?-e -, ,. I EPA? f The Wanderer's S ong HEAR a sound as of a voice Calling: I know not where. And I cannot but up and on, Searching: I know not where. And in my dreams I see a face Bidding: I know not why. And I cannot but up and on, Hoping: I know not why. And in myself I feel a force Urgingg I know not what. And I cannot but up and on, Seeking: I know not what. My heart is longing for someon Craving: I know not whom. And I cannot but up and on, Wanting: I know not Whom. And so I must go on and on Dreaming: I know not what. And I cannot but up and on, Searching: I know not what. e's hand J. E. Bachelder, jr., june 29 x H' Like Weather beaten rock your coat, Round marshy pond and salt your deep-sunk tracks teem - And at the foot of many precarious leaps. es, Fr.--5, TRONG ram and nimble goat, - 'Q You crop sparse blue-bells on the peaks While lush grass sprouts by sunny valley stream Betty Lowenhaupt, januarv 29 10

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Yo u th OOL and white the sand beach lay mm Q , Beneath our willing feet ' And Youth and I, alone, did stray . I - Through night that was starless and sweet. Defying the brilliance of the moon, A beach fire sparkled on the sand, And Youth and I, our hearts in tune, Wandered towards it hand in hand. We heeded not to-morrow's dawn. We had forgotten yesterday, And joy we knew to be not long We centered in our one to-day. Our elders say that we must part, Each to go his separate way- I to live life's bigger part And Youth with someone else to play. Youth and I have been good friends, We've known each other such a little while, Seventeen Aprils and twenty Mays- I heard someone say just the other day, Time goes by so slowly . Mary Cowan To Netley Abbey bf' XQUISITE stone work wrought by mortal hand, f ':lE: qM7. 0 A distant corner scarcely sought by man, In beauty, rare old Abbey Netley lies ,... 2 V' ,' if - - - . . ii A dream ethereal realized in stone V! On earth a ruined bit of Paradise And half-destroyed by age's ceaseless drone With walls graced by that green scar-healing rod It stands today a monument for God. Who sees the lace work of those clamouring vines, He feels the kindred work of all man-kind And knows the blessing of a Hand Divine. Mary B. Cowan. 110