St Francis Minor Seminary - Via Yearbook (Milwaukee, WI)

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f N :33-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-33Qi61 E 12C E ?:Echcz-cz-acz-cz-ae-eje-ca-c Illnrgiuv anh Eben illnrgvt Remember that I was your friend When you and I were boys? Remember the hours so happy We spent in childhood joys? But fortune has pulled us apart, And caused each to grow lax and cold; Our friendship, once so strong and true, Is but a remembrance of old. I know that 1 am to blame For our parting so long ago; I know that I did you an outrage, A deed that was cruel and law. But forgive, and then forget The thing that caused our friendship? end; Just forgive, and then forgeta That I was ever your friend. -FRAXCIS E. LOESCH. Night 1-1515 01mm The glorious night has come; The work of day is done. All nature goes to sleep, The fish 'rest in the deep, And stars their night-wateh keep. The whole world goes to rest, The bird upon its nest, The squirrel tn the tree, The cow out on the lea, And all-eyes, all but me. Tis then 1 lie in bed- My arm beneath my heade And thank the God above, Who sends us, like the dove, These hours of peace I love. eVERNON KUEHN. Elbe 7151253221 $atrament God of hosts in mounted splendor, We to Thee our homage render, While on bended knees we sing The joy and praises of our King. Thou lovels prisoner dost dwell, Hidden in Thy lonely cell, Just because Thou lowest man, For whom Thy blood profusely ran. Upon om- altars, Lord, remain, Lest man for love would seek in vain, For only in Thy Heart, 0 Lord, Is respite foundvfrom sorrowts sword. In Thee alone that love abounds, Int Thee alone may joy be found, For only can that love be true Which finds its resting place in You. -T1M0THY REGAN. 39-39-39-93anfo l 9 2 7 S: Page Sixty-one

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?33-3-3-3-3t3-3-3-3-3a61 ERC anee-e-acz-cz-eea-aac 311m at thIatt hWith Apologies to Eugene Fieldt My little old Ford is covered with dust, Butt sturdy and staunch it stands; The four old tires are ready to bust, Like those on the rest of the cans. Time was. when my little old Ford was young, And the tires were all in good shape, That was the time 'lt always would run, And I wasnlt obliged to fix it with tape. Now my little old Ford is falling apart, And it surely makes enough noise. The only time I can get it to start, Is when it is pushed by some of the boys. W hen it runs, it sputte'rs, and spits, and spurts, And gives us all a terrible thrill; The only time that it never shirks, Is when we are coasting down a big hill. Y as, faithful to me, my little Ford stands, Ills enough to arouse my ire, Awaiting the touch of mechanicsl hands, And also a set of new tires. It is rusting and weakening, standing there, In the snowbanks in our back yard, And Pm sure that when I get home next year, My little old Ford I shall have to discard. -RAYMOND SCHVVEMIN. lgiEiangtemgl-35-3-25T2o-3;+;3. 51,;5;Ci5295;5563$ ' 373'3'3'2333Q Page Sixty

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