Spence School - Yearbook (New York, NY)

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“A SIGHT SO TOUCHING IN ITS MAJESTY” The light of dawn breaking through the dove-grey mist gently envelops the outskirts of sleeping London. The morning breeze whispers through the endless rows of houses that it is time for the city to shake itself into consciousness. A few windows are slammed shut, and water boils for the morning cup of tea as the work- ers of London prepare for another day. The light swiftly speeds through the tortuous streets, catching the swinging sign of an old pub, a bobby’s high helmet or a belisha beacon. And now one can distinctly see Ken- sington Gardens, the Broad Walk, the Round Pond, and the once fashionable Rotten Row; soon the children of the city will flock with their nannies to play games beneath the gnarled trees. The mist clears; the light sparkles on the figure of Eros poised above Picadilly Circus. The sun almost obliterates Nelson, but there are the four massive lions, a symbol of strength. A new day has dawned on London, touching, with its light, historic places, streets, and homes as it has countless times betore. Today, however, in the awakening city there is a cer- tain tingle of excitement, which can be felt in fashion- able Mayfair, in colorful Soho, on the banks of the Thames, in every corner of the city. Today the beloved Princess Elizabeth is to be married. Forgotten are priva- tions, queues, and shabbiness, for today there is to be a great procession. The coach drawn by the Windsor greys, His Majesty's guards, the milling, cheering crowds and Westminster Abbey awaiting—all this is London too. This important day is as much a part of London and her people as is the Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament. The traditions of royalty and pomp of pageantry that this day will reveal are also the soul of London. Leone Olliff-Lee, XII REMORSE When yet a youth, I loved a slender girl Of tender grace and charm, and she loved me. Many the day we spent together, and We often told how fortunate we were. One night, malignant flames consumed the house, (Just as we told how fortunate we were). My face was burned out of its very shape And feature, and my eyes and lips were scarred. I could not see myself within that face— So strange it seemed to me; I knew that love, Though strong, might flee with horror at the sight. I banished from my door that slender form, Nor would let her see me as I was. Strange that she did not cry her love to me, Just called my name, and when I answered, ‘‘Go,” She went without a murmur or a tear! But not so strange, for many years ago, Though many after, (O, the years slip by, The countless, dim, commemorative years), They told me the malignant flames, that tore Away my face, had drawn away her sight. 62 Patricia Weenolsen, XII

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LADY CORISANDE TO LADY SILVANA Cornwall Terrace, 12 May I have just met the most eccentric person in London, Lady Anaplan. No doubt you have heard of her exaggerated love for those ancient Greeks and their philosophy, but I shall tell you more about her now since I know her. My Lord William Dandilion accompanied me to make this most ex- traordinary visit. I am sure that you must be quite shocked since I mention him to you so often in our correspondence, but, dear Silvana, he is the handsomest young man I have ever met, his ties and his perfumes are enough to make any girl's heart feel faint, and every time we pass together in the streets of Pall Mall and see that silly Lady Pinewood, she turns green with envy. She also cherished him avidly, but my charms drew him away from her clinging affection in the space of the big London ball. Returning to Lady Anaplan, darling William (you should hear his ‘‘plaisantries’’: always min- gled with the right amount of sarcasm and pique! ) and I arrived at a large mansion on Queen Anne's Street. Instead of being ushered into the usual morning-room, we were taken to a large ballroom. William whispered, very close to my ear, that this chamber reminded Lady Anaplan of a Peristyle. I don’t think so in the least—not my conception of a Peristyle, but of course there was the right number of Greek statues. It was rather a lovely room, with ornate ceilings of Greek design in gold, and two Corinthian columns, near the simple door, also painted finely with gold. However, I must say that the countenance of Lady Anaplan spoiled it all. My dear, she was reading a book in Greek! I almost had a fit of laughter, but Lord William, with a very ‘“degagé”’ air and a ready smile, rushed off into a stream of most lovely compliments— almost as lovely as the ones he pays me. I must tell you here that I found Lady Anaplan not only strange because she has a predilection for Greek, but especially because she also, in our time, adores the exact opposite of what I have heard the Greeks to be: to have an affection for Lord William, for instance—no Greek would ever have looked, much less talked with such wit, such sarcasm, such charm, such boldness—such foppish- ness. I have also heard it said that Greeks prized moderation; well, my Lady Anaplan is quite exag- gerated, and for well-known reasons. Tis said 61 that, like our beloved Queen, she loves her food to a more than rational extent. Likewise, she is very illogical—does not all this prove it? She should have been born in the Eliza- bethans’ time! Silvana, dear, having naturally en- gaged upon a discourse about Greek art (the like you know me to be rather badly educated in, having a more thorough “connaissance” with the Ace of Spades), I was making a charming com- ment upon how Cicero surpassed Praxiteles in his groupings, and my Lord William was smiling, a twinkle in his eyes, at my knowledge, when her little nephew came in, breathless, asking for the hour, “for the clock, my lady, is broken; my brother aimed the darts at it and the glass splin- tered.”” Lady Anaplan, like a queen, sitting in her much decorated French fauteuil, gold with petit point, her rich, scarlet damask robe glittering in the sunlight, said: “Richard, my man, Socrates said, ‘Know thyself!’ Now the clock knows that it should avoid Thomas’ darts because its glass breaks when hit. Do you apply the same to your- self!’ With this, Richard, his eyes rolling, fled. Poor little rascal, instead of telling him the time, she had to make him feel that he was quite un- wanted, with this continual outburst of Greek Anafkn! That is the only Greek word I know— my brother had me embroider it on a half dozen of his fine handkerchiefs. After more than an hour of such learned conversation (every young lady in London is dying to become Lady Dandilion, and to think that maybe I. . .), Lady Anaplan rose, and, pointing to a beautiful statue of Amphytrion, said to me: ‘“My dear, remember, this is art, this is the kind of man I should like to meet nowadays, not bursting cockerels like Walpole—excepting of course my Lord Dandilion,”’ she smiled graciously. I again almost fell into a fit of laughter, thinking about how Lady Anaplan would look, surrounded by a crowd of Amphytrions. William took my arm so that I should not slip on the shiny, uncarpeted floor, and thereupon we left. Do not write back to me, dear Silvana, that you know a more ec- centric person than my Lady Anaplan, or I shall again flood you with letters exposing her ever- increasing pretensions. Ever and affectionately yours, Your friend, Claude Goffart, XI

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“HE FELL NOBLY DARING” (Prize Narrative) “He fell nobly daring,” but hard! As I look back on it now, it seems quite funny, but at the time, it was far from that. I’m a retired cowboy, but once I was the best broncho-buster west of the Rockies. I had just finished my third round trying to whip the buck out of one of them range-bred horses, and was on my way to sit down under the shade of a tree. A boy came up to me; finally finding the words to express himself, he blurted out, “Gee, you sure can ride.” We started talking about what he wanted to be when he grew up, and sure ‘noff he wanted to be a cowboy. He said he rode one of them big fat weaner calves in the next corral and got throw’d twice before he got to ride him, and said that he would like to show me for proof. Then this ten-year-old picks up a rope, and is off to the corral. I got kinda worried, but figured I wasn’t boss, so I mounted my bronc and started out for a good bumpy ride, thinkin’ that maybe he’d leave the weaner and watch me. But I guess that was wishful thinkin’, for I looked over my shoulder and sees he’s just roped hisself the big- gest and fattest of the bunch. He tied a rope around him to hold onto, and waited for me to dismount my bellering mount before he began the show. As soon as he seen me settled, he climbed on the calf and started fanning him. That little son-of-a-gun sure went to a heap of a lot of trouble to show off his riding. He was riding loose and reckless, and I figgered he’d only last a couple of jumps. But I guess I figgered wrong ‘cause he stuck there like glue through the wickedest twists. Suddenly something hap- pened too quick for the eye to see! In half a second the kid was standing on his head over the calf’s withers, but before he landed, that mean calf kicked him to the far side of the corral. I seen him land in a heap “nobly daring!” Gioia Vlahos, 1X A LITTLE MAN’S DAY (Prize Poem) Once I saw a robin, A gay and lovely robin, I jumped upon that robin And flew, flew away. I flew up in the treetops, The tall and queenly treetops, I sat up in those treetops All day, day, day. But soon there came the night-time, The dark and horrid night-time, 63 The cold and lonely night-time, And I cried, cried, cried. I left my lovely treetops, Now cold, unhappy treetops, I left my sleeping robin And went home, home, home. Now, under my own covers, My nice and cosy covers, Warm under my thick covers I sleep, sleep, sleep. Frances Ewing, VIIL